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THE  LIBRARIES 


^^^^^^-^tyl^-i^-c^yr-^  (y^<^ 


ARTOTYPE         E      BIERBTADT, 


LEONARD    BACON: 


P  A  S  T  (J  R 


FIRST  CHURCH   IN  NEW  HAVEN, 


NEW    HAVEN: 

TUTTLE,    MOREHOUSE    k    TAYLOR,     PRINTERS. 

1882. 


L-SSi 


See  page  7. 


/;^//: 


Oil 

i— 
o 


The  foUowiiifr  pages  have  lieen  pre|)are(l.  ;it  the  request  of  the  First 
Chureli  and  Society  in  New  Haven,  to  eoinmetuorate  their  late  Pastor.  It 
has  been  no  part  of  our  design  to  speak  of  liini  in  any  other  relation  than 
as  Pastor  of  this  church.  Some  sermons  Avliieh  bear  especialh'  on  this 
relation  have  been  included,  and  the  la.st  sermon  j)rcaehed  by  him  will 
also  be  found  here.  A  few  newspaper  articles  respecting  Dr.  Bacon  in  various 
relations,  have  been  gathered,  and  are  at  the  end  of  the  volume. 

TI.    C.    KINGSLEY, 

LEOXARD  J.    SANFORD,  Y  Committee. 

THOS.    R.    TROWBRIDGE.  Jr. 

New    Havex.   .March,    1882. 


LEONARD    BACON: 


I'ASTOROF  THE  FIRST  CHURCH  IN  NEW  HA\  EN. 


LeonakI)  Bacon  was  bom  February  19,  1S02,  in  Detroit, 
Michigan,  whither  his  fatlier  liad  gone,  under  appointment  of 
tlie  Cyonuecticut  Missionary  Society,  to  labor  among  the  Indian 
tribes  in  that  vicinity.  Not  finding  sufficient  encouragement  in 
his  work,  Mr.  Bacon  removed  in  a  short  time,  wth  his  family, 
to  Tallmadge,  in  the  State  of  Ohio,  at  that  time  a  wilderness. 
Here  he  died,  and  his  eldest  son  was  at  the  age  of  ten  years 
placed  under  the  care  of  an  uncle  at  Hartford,  in  this  State, 
where  he  pursued  the  usual  studies  preparatory  to  entering 
college.  He  joined  the  class  which  was  graduated  at  Yale 
College  in  1820,  in  the  Sophomore  year,  in  which  he  sustained 
a  good  reputation  as  a  scholar,  and  especially  for  literary  and 
forensic  ability.  After  graduation  his  theological  studies  were 
pursued  at  Andover,  Massachusetts,  where  his  talents  were 
conspicuous.  He  was  ordained,  as  an  Evangelist,  by  the  Hart- 
ford North  Consociation,  September  28,  182-1,  at  their  meeting 
held  at  Windsor,  it  being  his  intention  to  find  a  held  of  labor 
at  the  West.  Just  at  this  moment  he  received  an  invitation  to 
preach  to  the  First  Church  in  New  Haven,  which  invitation 
he  accepted,  and  the  pulpit  was  supplied  by  him  for  several 

successive  Sabbaths, 
o 


b  LEONARD    BACON. 

On  December  15,  1824,  the  Society  extended  a  call  to  Mr. 
Bacon  to  settle  with  them  in  the  ministry  of  the  gospel,  and 
on  the  19th  of  the  same  month  the  clmrch  united  with  the 
society  in  their  call. 

This  call  was  accepted  by  Mr.  Bacon  January  17,  1825. 
The  proceedings  of  the  church  and  society,  with  Mr.  Bacon's 
letters  of  acceptance,  are  given  at  page  13. 

He  M^as  installed  March  9th  and  the  proceedings  of  the  coun- 
cil called  for  this  purpose  may  be  found  at  page  20. 

He  commenced  his  services  as  pastor  March  13, 1 825.  By  the 
favor  of  the  family  we  are  permitted  to  publish  the  first  ser- 
mon he  preached  after  taking  on  himself  the  ]3astoral  office. 
In  this  sermon  he  explained  what  he  considered  the  require- 
ments of  the  field  of  labor  to  which  he  had  been  called ;  how 
well  he  judged  of  them  those  who  have  been  familiar  with  his 
career  will  be  interested  to  observe.  The  sermon  may  be 
found  at  page  53. 

The  pastorate  thus  happily  begun  was  successful  to  the  end. 
Several  revivals  of  religion  marked  its  history.  Dr.  Bacon 
stated  in  his  review  of  these  forty  years  that  the  number  of 
persons  who  united  with  the  church  on  profession  of  faith  in 
Christ  during  this  time  was  six  hundred  and  six,  while  the 
number  of  those  who  were  received  by  letters  from  other 
churches  was  more  than  as  many  more. 

Dr.  Bacon  was  earnest  throughout  his  ministry  in  works  of 
moral  reform.  In  his  pulpit  exercises  and  through  the  public 
press  he  early  advocated  the  principle  of  abstinence  from  in- 
,toxicating  liquors  and  had  great  influence  in  bringing  about 
the  reformation  in  society  in  this  particular.  He  was  always 
an  opponent  of  slavery,  and  in  the  later  part  of  his  ministry 
especially,  preached  and  wrote  with  great  eft'ect  in  opposition 
to  the  system.  He  was  an  early  and  lifelong  friend  of  the 
great  missionary  and  other  religious  and  benevolent  societies, 
and  was  instrumental  in  recommending  them  not  onl}^  to  his 
own  church  but  to  the  churches  of  the  country.  In  local 
efforts  for  moral  reform,  and  for  meeting  the  wants  of  those 
without  church  connections,  the  needy  and  the  destitute,  his 
advice  was  always  souglit  iukI  his  time  and  influence  freely 
given. 


LEONARD   BACOX.  7 

Tlie  Pastor  loved  liis  people,  the  people  loved  and  honored 
their  Pastor,  llis  salary  was  iiici'cased  from  time  to  time  as 
the  increased  cost  of  living  and  his  inereasinff  family  seemed 
to  I'eqnire. 

The  two-hundredth  anniversary  of  the  settlement  of  the 
town  of  New  Haven  occurred  in  March,  1S8S,  and  the  occasion 
was  j)uhHcly  celebrated.  In  the  preliminary  arrangements  for 
tlii.s  celebration  and  in  the  celebration  itself  Dr.  Bacon  was 
much  interested.  The  organization  of  the  church  was  coeval 
with  the  settlement  at  New  Haven,  and  Dr.  Bacon  was  led  to 
investigate  the  early  history  of  the  church,  which  investigation 
resulted  in  the  delivery  of  thirteen  historical  discourses,  on 
Sunday  evenings,  which  were  afterwards  expanded  and  pub- 
lished in  a  volume.  They  will  always  remain  a  valuable  con- 
tribution to  the  history  of  the  church  and  a  lasting  testimony 
to  the  affection  of  the  Pastor  for  it. 

Another  work  which  Dr.  Bacon  performed  for  the  church, 
after  he  resigned  the  pastorate,  was  the  designing  and  prepar- 
ing, in  llis  own  felicitous  manner,  the  inscriptions  which  grace 
the  facade  of  the  church,  commemorating  the  organization  of 
the  church  and  the  settlement  of  the  town.  They  may  be 
found  at  the  commencement  of  this  volume. 

In  the  year  1839  an  effort  was  made  to  induce  Dr.  Bacon  to 
leave  the  church  to  accept  a  Professorship  in  Yale  College 
under  an  appointment  from  that  institution.  Dr.  Bacon  com- 
municated this  fact  to  the  society  in  a  letter  which,  with  the 
action  of  the  society  upon  it,  may  be  found  at  page  22. 

In  1850  Dr.  Bacon  communicated  to  the  society  his  wish  to 
be  alloM'ed  a  temporary  absence  from  the  labors  and  responsi- 
bilities of  the  pulpit.  His  letter,  and  the  action  of  the  so- 
ciety upon  it,  are  to  be  found  at  page  25. 

Receiving  the  asked  for  leave  of  absence,  he  went  to  Pales- 
tine and  some  adjacent  countries.  In  an  attempted  journey 
from  Mosul  to  Ooroomiah,  while  in  the  country  of  the  Koords, 
he  was  in  great  danger  of  his  life.  This  incident  awakened  a 
lively  interest  not  only  in  this  church,  but  wherever  Dr.  Bacon 
was  known.  His  highly  interesting  account  of  it,  so  charac- 
teristic of  the  man,  may  be  found  at  page  29. 

The  time  at  length  came  when  this  pastorate  was  to  termi- 


8  LEONARD    BACON. 

nate.  Of  the  five  Inindred  and  fifty  members  of  the  ehnreh 
at  the  time  of  the  settlement  of  the  yonthfnl  pastor,  only  thir- 
ty-four remained.  The  children  and  grandchildren  of  those  to 
whom  he  first  ministered  were  now  his  parishioners.  He 
preached  on  the  second  Sunday  in  March,  1865,  just  forty 
years  after  his  settlement,  both  morning  and  afternoon,  review- 
ing his  ministry,  and  closing  with  the  expression  of  a  desire  to 
be  relieved  from  the  responsibilities  of  the  pastoral  oflice. 
These  sermons  may  be  found  at  page  75.  A  sermon  preached 
a  month  earlier,  on  his  sixty-third  birthday,  may  be  found  at 
page  65. 

Dr.  Bacon  continued  to  discharge  the  duties  of  pastor  and 
no  action  was  taken  upon  the  suggestions  made  by  him 
until  the  annual  meeting  of  the  society  in  the  following 
December,  when  a  committee  was  appointed  to  take  these  sug- 
gestions into  consideration  and  to  report  at  an  adjourned  meet- 
ing. The  proceedings  which  followed  are  given  from  the 
records  of  the  society  and  the  church  at  page  39.  The  sermon 
which  he  preached  on  retiring  from  pastoral  duties,  September 
9,  1866,  may  be  found  at  page  105. 

No  communication  was  made  by  Dr.  Bacon  to  the  church 
except  what  was  contained  in  the  sermon  of  March  12,  1865, 
and  the  church  was  not  asked  by  him  to  unite  in  calling  a 
council  to  dissolve  the  relation  existing  between  them.  He 
continued  until  his  death  their  Pastor,  but  relieved  by  the 
society  from  all  the  duties  pertaining  to  the  office. 

Fifty  years  from  the  day  of  his  installation,  on  Tuesday, 
March  9,  1875,  in  the  afternoon,  he  preached  to  a  large  congre- 
gation. Beside  the  venerable  Pastor  there  sat  the  Eev.  Dr. 
Walker,  associated  with  him,  and  the  Rev.  Dr.  Buckingham, 
of  Springfield,  Mass.  In  the  rear  of  the  pulpit,  upon  the  wall, 
M^as  the  following,  beautifully  worked  in  immortelles,  upon  a 
black  background : 

'  1S25 — "them  that  honor  mk  i   will  honoh  " — 1875. 

The  pulpit  was  beautifully  decorated  with  large  bouquets  of 
rare  and  fragrant  fiowers,  and  the  table  beneath  was  strewn 
with  lilies.     The  house  was  full  of  the  friends  of  the  T'astor. 


LEONAED    BACON.  9 

Tlie  services  l)e_u-nii  :it  o:ir»  i\  m.  with  siiioiim-  hy  tlie  (|iiar- 
tette.  Iininediatelv  afterward  the  Kev.  I)r.  Walker  read 
appropriate  selections  of  scri})ture.  Prayer — in  which  the 
occasion  was  fittingly  alhided  to — was  offered  by  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Buckingham,  after  which  the  liev.  Dr.  Bacon  read  the  678th 
hymn : 

"  How  firm  a  loundation.  ye  saints  of  tlie  Lord." 

The  aged  PavStor  then  arose  to  address  his  people.  He  pre- 
faced his  discourse  by  reading  a  portion  of  the  71st  Psalm, 
beginning  at  the  14th  verse.  After  finishing  the  chapter,  the 
speaker  remarked  tliat  the  first  jiart  of  the  1 7tli  verse  would 
atford  suggestions  for  the  discourse.  The  17th  and  18th 
verses — so  appropriate  a  text — are  as  follows  : 

<)  God.  thou  hast  taught  me  from  my  youtli.  and  liitherto  have  T  declared  thy 
wondrous  works. 

Now  also  when  I  am  old  and  gray-headed,  0  God  forsake  me  not :  until  J 
have  showed  thy  strength  unto  this  generation,  and  thy  power  to  every  one  that 
is  to  come. 

This  sermon  may  be  found  at  page  US). 

In  the  evening  of  the  same  day  a  reception  was  held  in  the 
chapel,  which  was  very  largely  attended.  The  venerable  Pas- 
tor and  his  lady  occupied  the  sofa  in  the  alcove  before  which  a 
half  circle  was  cleared.     In  this  the  addresses  were  made. 

Rev.  T.  1).  Woolsey,  D.D.,  delivered  a  congratulatory  address 
which  occupied  about  half  an  hour. 

Dr.  Bacon  resjjonded  in  his  agreeable  and  forcible  manner, 
after  M'liich  Rev.  Edward  E.  Atwater  presented  a  set  of  resolu- 
tions of  a  congratulatory  nature,  which  had  l>een  passed  during 
the  day  by  the  New  Haven  (^entral  Association  of  Congrega- 
tional churches. 

Rev.  Dr.  Ilai-wood  then  made  a  few  remarks,  which  were 
received  with  much  favor.  Dr.  Bacon  responded,  relating  his 
early  accpiaintance  with  Rev.  Harry  Croswell,  Dr.  llarwood's 
predecessor. 

After  the  speeches  the  company  partook  of  refreshments  in 
the  back  parlor.  This  entertainment  lasted  until  the  reception 
closed. 


10  LEONARD    BACON. 

As  Rev.  Dr.  Bacon  and  Lis  wife  were  stepping  into  their 
carriage,  Deacon  Walker  presented  them  with  a  purse  of 
nearly  l|;2,000 — the  generons  gift  of  the  church. 

After  it  was  understood  that  Dr.  Bacon  was  to  retire  from 
the  pastoral  care  of  this  church,  he  received  an  invitation  to 
become  a  Professor  in 'the  Theological  Department  of  Yale 
College,  which  invitation  he  accepted  and  entered  on  his  new 
duties  in  the  autumn  of  1866,  in  which  duties  he  continued 
until  his  death.  But  the  church  was  without  an  acting  Pastor 
for  two  years  after  this,  and  again  for  a  period  of  two  years 
and  a  half,  and  for  a  third  jieriod  of  the  same  length  of  time, 
during  all  of  which  Dr.  Bacon  was  called  on  to  attend  funerals 
and  to  perform  other  pastoral  work.  These  voluntary  lahors 
he  not  only  ungrudgingly  performed,  l)ut  encouraged  the  peo- 
ple to  call  on  him  in  their  needs. 

In  the  year  1881,  for  the  first  time,  he  became  aware  of  a 
disease  of  the  heart  which  threatened  to  terminate  his  life  at 
any  moment.  He  did  not  hesitate  nor  falter  in  the  discharge 
of  his  various  duties.  His  lectures  to  the  Theological  students 
he  delivered  as  usual,  the  last  one  only  thirty-six  hours  before 
his  death.  He  attended  the  church  seiwices  twice  each  Lord's 
day,  occasionally  performing  the  services  himself,  and  at 
other  times  ministered  to  the  people  of  his  congregation  as 
they  called  on  him.  The  last  time  that  he  preached  was  on 
the  day  of  Public  Thanksgiving,  November  24,  1881,  only  one 
month  before  his  death.    The  sermon  may  be  found  at  page  137. 

On  the  morning  of  Saturday,  December  24,  1881,  with  less 
pain  than  had  marked  other  similar  attacks,  he  departed  this 
life. 

The  funeral  services  were  attended  on  Tuesday,  December 
27th.  In  the  forenoon  of  that  day  Rev.  T.  D.  Woolsey,  D.D.. 
lately  President  of  Yale  College,  through  life  an  intimate 
friend,  and  for  many  years  a  very  near  neighbor,  offered 
prayer  at  the  late  residence  of  Dr.  Bacon,  in  the  presence  of  the 
family,  their  intimate  friends,  and  the  officers  of  the  church. 

In  the  afternoon  public  services  were  held  in  the  church. 
The  remains  had  been  borne  from  the  house  to  the  church  at 
noon.     At  half-past  two  o'clock  the  church  was  crowded  with  . 
mourners.     The  audience-room  was  heavily  draped  with  black 


LEONAHl)    HA  CON.  11 

elotli ;  ill  front  of  the  pulpit,  on  the  couinuiiiion  tal)le,  stood  a 
largv  full  slieaf  of  ripe  wheat.  The  family  and  relatives  of 
Dr.  Bacon,  the  officers  of  the  church  and  society,  the  members 
of  the  church  and  congregation,  large  numbers  of  citizens, 
many  ministers  from  various  parts  of  tlie  State,  constituted  tlie 
mourning  company.  Pleyel's  Ilymn  was  played  on  the  organ, 
the  choir  of  the  church  chanted  the  Lord's  prayer.  Rev. 
George  P.  Fislier,  D.D.,  Professor  in  Yale  Theological  Semi- 
nary, invoked  the  Divine  blessing,  and  read  selected  passages 
of  scripture.  The  choir  of  the  church  then  sang  the  anthem, 
"  Sleep  thy  last  sleep."  An  address  of  remarkable  tenderness 
and  beauty  was  delivered  by  Rev.  Timothy  Dwight,  D.D., 
Professor  in  Yale  Theological  Seminary,  which  may  be  found 
at  page  149.  Rev.  Edward  Hawes,  D.D.,  pastor  of  the  North 
Church,  offered  the  closing  prayer.  The  congregation  united 
in  singing  ^  Hail  tranquil  hour  of  closing  day,"  a  hymn  written, 
by  Rev.  Dr.  Bacon,  and  then  the  loved  and  honored  remains 
of  the  deceased  Pastor  were  borne  from  the  church  by  his  six 
sons.  A  brief  prayer  was  offered  at  the  grave  by  Rev.  Wm. 
M.  Barbour,  D.D.,  Pastor  of  the  church  in  Yale  College. 

On  January  15,  1882,  Rev,  George  Leon  Walker,  D.D., 
formerly  Pastor  of  the  church,  and  now  Pastoi"  of  the  First 
Church  in  Hartford,  by  request,  preached  a  memorial  dis- 
course. The  choir  sang  tlie  anthem,  "  Nazareth,"  and  the 
hymn  "  Oh,  holy  night."  The  other  hymns  sung  were, 
"  Hark !  a  voice  divides  the  sky,"  and  "  It  is  not  death  to  die." 
Dr.  Walker's  sermon  may  be  found  at  page  167. 

The  will  of  Rev.  Dr.  Bacon  was  written  by  himself  and  in 
its  main  provisions  is  of  no  interest  to  the  public,  but  its  com- 
mencement bears  in  it  so  striking  an  affirmation  of  his  faith 
tliat  it  is  here  o-iven. 


t'2  LEONARD    BACON. 


Preamble  and   Introductory  Article   from  the. Will 
OF  Rev.  Leonard  Bacon,  D.D. 

I,  Leonard  Bacon,  of  the  City  and  County  of  New  Haven, 
in  the  State  of  Connecticut,  being,  by  the  favor  of  God,  not- 
withstanding my  age  of  more  tlian  seventy-six  years,  in  full 
health  and  of  sound,  disposing  mind  and  memory,  do  make 
and  establish  in  these  following  articles  my  last  will  and  testa- 
ment : 

First,  Holding  fast  that  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
which  I  have  preached  to  others,  and  which,  by  God's  blessing 
on  the  diligence  of  my  godly  parents,  has  been  my  strength 
and  comfort  from  my  youth  up,  I  commit  my  soul  to  Him,  the 
Lamb  of  God  who  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world.  In  this 
confidence  I  hope  to  die,  assured  that  he  is  able  to  save  to  the 
uttermost  all  who  come  to  God  by  Him.  Concerning  the 
burial  of  my  body,  I  ask  of  those  on  whom  that  care  shall 
devolve,  that  the  funeral  may  be  managed  with  an  exemplary 
care  to  avoid  expense,  by  whomsoever  the  expense  may  be 
defrayed.  Let  the  dust  return  to  dust.  I  hope  to  rise  with 
them  who  sleep  in  Jesus, 


I,K(>NAKI>    I?AC()N.  l;^ 


Pnircedinos  of  tlie  l^rst  (uxiosiastiral  Soriety 

HKLATlN(i    Tt)    CALL    OF 

n  K  y  .    L  K  ()  X  A  R  I )    B  A  ('  ()  N  . 


Friday  Evening,  Dec.  10,  1824.     0  o'clock. 

The  society  met  at  the  lectnre-rooni  according  to  tlic  hist 
adjournment.  James  Ilillliouse,  Esq.,  moderator.  Deacon 
Whiting  opened  the  meeting  with  prayer. 

Voted,  That  this  society  do  approve  of  tlie  ministerial  ser- 
vices of  the  Rev.  Leonard  Bacon  among  them,  and  are  desii'ons 
that  he  shonld  settle  with  them  in  the  work  of  the  gospel 
ministry,  and  that  he  be  invited  to  take  charge  of  the  society 
and  the  church  connected  with  it  accordingly,  as  their  Pastor 
and  gospel  minister.     Yeas,  4:2;  Nays,  21. 

Adjourned  to  Wednesday  evening,  Dec.  15,  at  6  o'clock. 

Attest,  T.  D.  WILLIAMS,  Soeietifs  Clerl: 

ADJOURNED    MP]ETIXG. 

Wednesday  Evening,  Dec.  15,  1824.     0  o'clock. 

The  society  met  at  the  lecture-room  pursuant  to  the  last 
adjournment.  James  Ilillliouse,  Esq.,  moderator.  The  meet- 
ing was  opened  with  prayer  by  President  Atwater. 

Voted,  That  the  society  reconsider  the  vote  passed  at  the  last 
meeting  respecting  the  invitation  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bacon. 

Voted,  That  this  society  do  approve  of  the  ministerial  servi- 
ces of  the  Rev.  Leonard  Bacon  among  them,  and  are  desirous 
that  he  should  settle  with  them  in  the  work  of  the  gospel  min- 
istry and  that  he  be  invited  to  take  charge  of  the  society  and 
the  churcli  connected  with  it  accordingly  as  their  Pastor  and 
3 


14  LEONARD    BACON. 

gospel  minister,  on  such  terms  and  conditions  as  may  hereafter 
be  agreed  upon  by  the  society  and  Mr.  Bacon.  The  votes 
were,  affirmative,  68  ;  negative,  20. 

Voted,  That  the  church  in  the  society  be  requested  to  unite 
with  them  in  the  above  invitation. 

4 

Voted,  That  Messrs.  Dyer  White,  Dennis  Kimberly,  Nathan 
Whiting,  Stephen  Twining,  CUiarles  Atwater,  Jonathan  Knight, 
Henry  Daggett,  Jr.,  and  Elihu  Sanford  be  a  committee  to 
report  at  a  future  meeting  the  terms  and  conditions  of  the  set- 
tlement of  the  Kev.  Leonard  Bacon. 

Adjourned  to  Monday  evening,  Dec.  20,  at  B  o'clock. 

Attest,  T.  D.  WILLIAMS,  Societifs  Clerk. 


ADJOURNED    MEETING. 

Monday  Evening,  Dec.  20,  1824.     6  o'clock. 

The  society  met  at  the  lecture-room  pursuant  to  the  last 
adjournment.  James  Hillhouse,  Esq.,  moderator.  The  meet- 
ing was  opened  with  prayer  by  Deacon  Whiting.  The  com- 
mittee appointed  at  the  last  meeting  i-eported. 

Voted,  That  in  case  the  Rev.  Leonard  Bacon  shall  accept 
the  invitation  of  this  society  to  take  the  charge  of  them  and  the 
church  connected  with  them  as  their  Pastor,  the  society  will 
pay  to  him  during  the  continuance  of  his  ministry  with  them, 
a  salary  of  one  thousand  dollars  a  year,  which '  salary  shall  be 
paid  half-yearly  in  advance.     49  affirmative,  21  negative. 

Voted,  That  Dyer  White,  Nathan  Whiting,  and  Stej^hen 
Twining  be  a  committee  to  transmit  to  Mr.  Bacon  the  several 
votes  passed  by  the  society,  and  comnnmicate  witli  him  on  the 
subject  of  his  settlement,  and  "repoi't  his  answer  thereto  at 
some  future  meeting. 

And  the  society  adjourned  without  day. 

Attest,  T.  I).  WILLIAMS,  Society's  Clerk. 


ins    ("ALL    TO    TIIK    I'ASTOHAl^K.  15 


SPECIAL    MKKTlXd. 


At  a  special  ii;eetiii<;'  of  the  l*'irst  Ecclesiastical  Society 
legally  warned  and  lioldon  at  the  lectn re-room  Monday  after- 
not)n,  January  81,  IS-J.").      Dyer  White  chosen  nioderatoi*. 

Voted,  That  William  J.  Forbes,  Henry  Daggett,  Jr.,  and 
Isaac  Mills  l)e  and  they  hereby  are  appointed  a  committee,  in 
conjunction  with  a  committee  to  be  appointed  in  the  church 
together  with  Mr.  Bacon,  to  fix  upon  the  time  and  adjust  the 
arrangements  necessary  for  his  installation  as  a  minister  of  this 
society. 

The  following  letter  from  the  liev.  Leonard  Bacon  was  read 
at  the  opening  of  the  meeting : 

Andover,  Dec.  30,  1824, 
Messrs.  Dyer  White.,  Stephen  Twining.,  and  Nathan  Whiting: 

Gextlemen — Yours  of  the  21st,  communicating  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  First  Ecclesiastical  Society  in  New  Haven,  by 
which  they  have  invited  me  to  settle  with  them  in  the  work  of 
the  gospel  ministry,  and  enclosing  a  communication  from  the 
church  connected  with  that  society  was  duly  received,  A 
Temporary  absence  from  town  prevented  my  making  an  imme- 
diate acknowledgment. 

At  present  I  have  only  to  say  that  the  subject  which  has 
thus  been  laid  before  me  shall  receive  the  attention  it  deserves, 
and  that  my  answer  to  the  invitation  shall  be  given  at  the  ear- 
liest period  consistent  with  the  deliberation  which  is  due  to 
a  question  involving  consequences  so  momentous,  God  only 
can  teach  us  what  he  would  have  us  to  do,  and  when  I  look  to 
Him  for  the  wisdom  which  I  need,  there  is  encouragement  in 
the  thought  that  others  are  lifting  up  their  hands  to  the  Father 
of  lights  and  praying  Him  to  guide  me  by  His  counsel. 

Wishing  to  you  and  to  the  people  for  whom  you  act,  grace, 
mercy  and  peace  from  God  our  Father,  and  from  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  I  am,  brethren,  vour  servant  in  the  gospel, 

LEONARD  BACON. 


16  •        LEONARD    BACON. 

LETTER   OF   ACCEPTANCE   ADDRESSED    TO    THE    SOCIETY. 

Andover,  Jan.  17,  1825. 
To  the  First  Ecclesiastical  8ooiety  in  New  Haven : 

Brethren  and  Friends — The  votes  by  which  you  have 
invited  me  to  settle  with  you  in  the  work  of  the  gospel  minis- 
try was  duly  transmitted  and  received,  and  have  been  deliber- 
ately considered.  When  I  received  your  call,  and  became 
acquainted  witli  the  circumstances  in  which  it  was  given,  my 
impressions  were,  on  the  whole,  favorable  to  your  invitation. 
In  the  progress  of  a  serious  and  careful  deliberation  these  im- 
pressions have  continually  grown  more  distinct  and  certain,  and 
have  resulted  in  a  conviction  of  duty.  Under  the  influence  of 
this  conviction  I  do  now  accept  the  proposals  with  which  you 
have  seen  fit  to  honor  me. 

I  may  have  erred  in  following  what  I  supposed  to  be  the  guid- 
ing hand  of  Providence  ;  and  the  probability  of  such  an  error — 
when  we  think  of  it  in  its  connection  with  the  prosperity  of 
the  church,  and  with  your  own  eternal  interests— is  enough  to 
make  us  tremble.  Whether  I  have  been  thus  mistaken  we 
know  not  now,  but  we  shall  know  hereafter  in  the  day  when 
all  secret  things  shall  be  revealed. 

And  now  I  commend  you  to  God,  and  to  the  word  of  His 
grace ;  and  praying  that  His  love  may  be  shed  abroad  in  all 
your  hearts,  I  am,  your  friend  and  servant  in  Christ, 

LEONAED  BACON. 

Andover,  Monday,  Jan.  17,  1825. 
Messrs.  Dyer    White,    Stephen    Tvnnitig,    Nathan    Whiting, 
Committee : 

Gentlemen — I  send  you  my  answer  to  the  invitation  of 
your  society.  Enclosed  is  a  corresponding  communication  to 
the  church.  Respecting  the  time  which  the  church  and 
society  may  appoint  for  the  solemnity  of  installation  I  have 
nothing  to  say  except  that  the  earliest  notice  of  whatever 
arrangemeuts  they  may  choose  to  make  will  very  niucli  oblige 
your  friend  and  brother,  LEONARD  BA(H)N." 

And  the  society  adjourned  without  day. 

Attest,  T.  T).  WILLIAMS,  Soviet //s  Cirri-. 


HIS    CALL    TO    THE    PASTOKATK. 


Proceedings  of  ilie  First  fhurcli  in  New  Haven 


IX    HKLATIOX    TO    ("ALLTNO 


RKV.    LEONARD     HA  CON 


At  a  meeting  of  the  First  (%ureli  in  New  Haven  on  Sab- 
bath morning,  llHh  December,  1824. 

Tlie  Kev.  .ledediah  Morse,  D.D.,  was  chosen  moderator. 
The  meeting  was  opened  witli  prayer  1)y  the  moderator. 

Voted,  That  the  clinrch  do  unite  with  the  society  in  their 
vote  passed  on  the  15th  of  December  instant,  inviting  tlie 
Rev.  Leonard  Bacon  to  settle  with  them  in  the  work  of  the 
gospel  ministry. 

A^oted,  That  the  Senior  Deacon  be  requested  to  transmit 
the  above  vote  to  the  Rev.  Leonard  Bacon. 

Tlie  meeting  was  closed  with  prayer  l)y  the  moderator. 

Attest,  SAMUEL  DARLING,  Deacon. 


18  LEONARD    BACON. 


LETTER    OF    ACCEPTANCE    ADDRESSED    TO    THE    CHURCH. 

To  the  First  Churcli  of  Christ  in  New  Haven  : 

Brethren — On  tlie  24th  of  last  month  I  received  a  commu- 
nication from  yoiir  committee  informing  me  of  the  vote  by 
which  you  have  invited  me  to  become  your  Pastor.  In  a  mat- 
ter of  so  great  importance  to  myself  and  to  you  and  to  the 
cause  of  our  common  Redeemer,  I  was  unwilling  to  be  gov- 
erned by  my  first  impressions  of  duty,  and  I  have  therefore 
delayed  answering  your  call  till  now  that  I  might  have  opj^or- 
tunity  for  more  careful  and  deliberate  enquiry.  Such  enquiry 
I  have  attempted  to  make,  looking  up  to  God  for  the  light  of 
His  countenance  and  the  guidance  of  His  spirit,  and  the  result 
is  that  I  now  accept  your  invitation,  praying  God  to  forgive 
me  the  unworthiness  of  which  I  am  conscious,  and  to  glorify 
His  strength  in  my  weakness. 

The  uncommon  unanimity  which  has  marked  your  proceed- 
ings, has  seemed  to  me  and  to  those  in  whose  judgment  I  may 
confide,  to  indicate  what  the  great  Head  of  the  Church  would 
have  me  do.  In  this  I  may  have  mistaken  the  leadings  of 
Providence,  for  we  are  all  blind  to  the  future,  and  the  book  of 
God's  designs  can  be  read  only  as  its  leaves  are  successively 
unfolded  before  us.  God  only  knows,  for  he  ordains,  what 
is  to  be  the  result  of  our  designs,  and  blind  as  we  are,  we  may- 
rejoice  in  this,  that  as  he  knoweth  our  frame  and  remem- 
bereth  that  we  are  dust,  so  by  his  own  wisdom  and  his  own 
power  he  will  accomplish  his  purposes  of  grace  and  establish 
the  glor}^  of  his  church,  notwithstanding  all  our  mistakes  and 
all  our  weakness.  The  partiality  with' which  you  have  been 
led  to  regard  me,  while  it  fills  me  with  solicitude  respecting  the 
expectations  you  may  liave  formed,  inspires  also  the  hope 
that  as  3^ou  become  more  acquainted  wnth  the  imperfections  of 
my  character  you  will  look  on  them  with  the  forbearance  and 
kindness  demanded  by  the  endearing  character  of  the  relation 
which  will  then  subsist  between  us. 


niS   CAT,L   TO   THE    PASTORATE.  10 

Bretliren,  pvny  for  iiie  ;  and  now  may  our  Lord  .lesns  Christ 
himself  and  (rod,  even  our  Father,  wh(»  hath  h»ved  us,  and 
given  us  everlastino;  eonsohition  and  i2:ood  hope  throug-li  grace, 
comfort  your  hearts  and  establish  you  in  every  good  word  and 
work.      Yours  in  the  faith  and  feUowshi])  of  tlie  gospel, 

LEONARD   BACON. 

Andovcr.  Massachusetts,  .I;in.  17.  1825. 


At  a  meeting  of  the  First  ( 'hurcli  in  New  Haven  on  the  Slst 
of  January,  1825.  Deacon  Natlian  Whiting,  moderator.  A 
letter  from  Rev.  Leonard  Bacon j  accepting  of  the  invitation  of 
this  church  and  the  society  to  settle  with  them  in  the  gospel 
ministry,  was  read. 

Voted,  That  this  church  do  approve  and  accept  of  the  an- 
swer of  Rev.  Leonard  Bacon  and  do  order  it  to  be  recorded. 

Voted,  That  Samuel  Darling,  Stephen  Twining,  and  Nathan 
Whiting  be  and  they  are  hereby  appointed  a  committee,  in  con- 
junction with  a  committee  ajipointed  by  the  society,  together 
■with  Rev.  Mr.  Bacon,  to  fix  upon  the  time  and  adjust  the 
arrangements  necessary  for  his  installation  as  a  minister  of  this 
society. 

SAMUEL  DARLING,  Beaeon. 


20  LEOXARD    BAOON. 


Proceedings  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Council 

CALLED   TO    INSTALL 

REV.    LEONARD    BACON. 


At  a  meeting  of  an  Ecclesiastical  C^ouncil  convened  at  the 
house  of  Aaron  Morse,  in  New  Haven,  Tuesday,  March  8, 
1825,  and  held  at  the  lectnre-rooni  in  Orange  street,  for  the 
purpose  of  installing  Rev.  Leonard  Bacon  as  Pastor  over  the 
First  Church  and  society  in  New  Haven. 

Present :  Rev.  Jeremiah  Day,  President  of  Yale  College. 

Rev.  Nathaniel  W.  Taylor,  Professor  of  Theology  in  Yale 
College. 

Rev.  Stephen  W.  Stel)bins,  from  the  First  Church  in  West 
Haven. 

Rev.  Samuel  Merwin,  from  the  church  in  the  United  Society 
in  New  Haven. 

Thomas  F.  Davies,  their  delegate. 

Rev.  Eleazar  T.  Fitch,  from  the  CJhurch  in  Yale  (Allege. 
Elizur  Goodrich,  their  delegate. 

Rev.  Joel  Hawes,  from  the  First  Church  in  Hartford. 
Henry  L.  Ellsworth,  their  delegate. 

Rev.  Carlos  Wilcox,  from  the  North  C'hurch  in  Hartford. 
Eliphalet  Terry,  their  delegate. 

Joseph  Webster,  delegate  from  the  South  Church  in  Hart- 
ford. 

Rev.  Messrs.  Ahner  Sniitli,  David  Smith,  Elijah  Waterman, 
Daniel  Crane,  Erastus  Scranton,  Samnel  Whittlesey,  Nathaniel 
Hewit,  Samuel  R.  Andrew,  Edward  AV^.  Hooker,  and  David 
L.  Ogden,  being  present,  were  invited  to  sit  with  the  council. 


[IIS    INSTALLATION.  21 

T\\v  council  tlu'ii.  after  rccoivinn'  tVoiii  IJcv.  I>.  IJacoii  a  cer- 
tificate of  his  ()r(linati(Hi  as  an  Kvangeiist,  and  exaniiniiif)^  with 
respect  to  his  (inalitications  for  tlie  niinistrv  of  the  gospel, 
voted  that  tliev  would  proceed  to  his  installation  to-morrow, 
A.  M.,  at  half-past  ten  oVdock. 

The  parts  of  the  service  were  then  assigned  as  follows: 

The  introductory  prayer  to  liev.  Carlos  "Wilcox. 

The  sermon  to  Kev.  Joel  ITawes. 

The  installing  prayer  to  Rev.  Ste])lien  \\ .  Stehhins. 

The  charge  t^)  Rev.  N.  W.  Taylor. 

The  right  hand  of  fellowship  to  Rev.  E.  T.  Fitch. 

The  council  then  a<ljoiirned  to  meet  again  at  the  same  place 
to-nu)rrow,  A.  M.,  at  half-])ast  nine  o'clock. 

AVednesday  morning,  March  9. — Met  according  to  adjourn- 
ment. The  minutes  were  then  read  and  passed  by  the  council 
as  a  true  record  of  tlieir  proceedings,  when  the  act  of  installa- 
tion was  performed  according  to  the  preceding  resolutions. 

Attest,  ELEAZAR   T.    FITCH,  Scribe. 


22  LEONARD    BACON. 

Proceedings  in  relation  to  a  Call 

TO   A 

PKOFESSOKSHIP   IN   YALE   COLLEGE. 


At  a  special  meeting  of  the  First  Ecclesiastical  Society  in 
Kew  Haven,  held  jDiirsnant  to  legal  notice  at  the  chapel  in 
Orange  street,  on  Monday  the  2d  of  September,  at  3  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon,  A.  D.  1839.  Dr.  Jonathan  Knight  was  chosen 
moderator. 

A  communication  from  the  Pastor  was  read  in  relation  to  his 
recent  appointment  to  the  Professorship  of  Phetoric  and  Ora- 
tory in  Yale  CV)llege,  requesting  the  society  to  hear  what 
the  gentlemen  from  the  college  have  to  offer  on  this  subject, 
and  then  to  express  their  judgment  whether  the  interests 
involved  in  this  matter  require  the  society  to  give  uj)  their 
Pastor  to  this  call ;  which  communication  is  on  tile. 

William  J.  Forbes,  Esq.,  was  appointed  a  committee  to  wait 
on  the  gentlemen  from  college  and  recpiest  their  attendance 
at  this  time  to  make  such  remarks  as  they  wish  on  the  subject 
of  the  communication  from  the  Pastor. 

President  Day,  in  behalf  of  the  Corporation  of  Yale  College, 
and  Professor  Silliman,  in  behalf  of  the  Faculty  of  the 
College,  made  a  statement  of  the  views  of  the  Corporation  in 
electing  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bacon  to  the  Professorship  of  Rhetoric 
and  Oratory  in  Yale  College,  and  of  the  reasons  why  the 
appointment  should  be  accepted. 

After  some  time  spent  in  deliberation,  the  society  unani- 
mously— 

J^(\w/ve(7,  That  in  the  ojiinion  of  this  society  it  is  not  expe- 
dient that  our  Pastor  should  leave  this  people  for  the  Profes- 
sorship in  Yale  C-ollege,  to  which  he  has  been  appointed ;  that 
it  is  not  the  dnty  of  this  society,  as  at  present  advised,  to  con- 
sent to  his  removal. 

The  society  then  adjourned  without  day. 
Attest,  '  "  HENRY  WHITE,  Clerk. 


HIS    CAI.l,    TO    YAT.K    COLLEIJE.  2H 


COMMIXU  Al'lo.N    (IF    in<:V.    .Ml{.    IiA(X)>;    ON    TTTE    ST'RJErT    OF 
1118    APPOINTMENT, 

To  the  Meii)he)'/<  of  the  First  EreJesiastieaJ  Society  in  New 
JFaven  : 

Gentlemen — I  have  already  iiifoi-med  yon  of  the  fact  that 
I  have  been  ap}3ointed  to  the  Professorship  of  Tilietoric  and 
Oratory  in  Yale  College.  In  tlie  communication  wliich  T  i-ead 
to  tlie  congTegation  I  stated  the  reasons  by  which  I  felt  myself 
bound  to  consider  the  subject  and  to  ask  yon  to  consider  it 
also  before  giving  any  answer  to  the  a])pointment. 

When  the  proposal  was  first  made  to  me  informally,  and 
arguments  were  nsed  showing  the  importance  of  the  call,  I 
replied  to  the  gentlemen  who  conferred  with  me,  "  If  the  case 
is  as  clear  as  you  think  it  is,  you  can  probably  make  it  clear  to 
my  people  ;  if  they  think  that  the  greatest  good  requires  them 
to  give  me  up  they  will  yield  and  then  I  will  consent/" 

What  I  ask  of  you  then  is  that  you  will  first  hear  what  the 
gentlemen  from  the  college  have  to  offer  on  this  subject,  and 
then  after  all  necessary  deliberation  among  yourselves  express 
your  judgment.  I  wish  you  to  look  not  at  the  interests  of  the 
society  only,  nor  of  the  college  only,  but  at  the  interests  of  the 
town,  of  the  State,  of  the  country,  and  of  the  Church  of 
Christ  universally,  and  to  say  whether  these  interests  in  voui- 
judgment  require  you  to  give  up  your  Pastor  to  this  call. 

Some  of  you,  I  am  informed,  have  received  the  impression 
that  my  preference  is  to  accept  the  invitation.  Others  will 
ask  which  way  my  inclination  leads.  Let  me  say  then  dis- 
tinctly, I  have  no  wish  to  leave  you.  I  am  not  called  to  a 
higher  salary,  nor  to  a  station  which  will  be  to  me  more  hon- 
orable or  less  laborious.  Consulting  my  own  feelings  alone, 
whether  of  affection  or  of  interest,  T  should  immediately  deter- 
mine to  remain  as  I  am. 

The  question  will  be  asked.  What  is  my  opinion  as  to  mj 
duty  in  the  case '{     I   answer,  if  I    saw  it  to  be  ni}-  duty  to 


24  LEONARD    BACON. 

accept  the  appointment  I  should  say  so  at  once,  and  ask  you  to 
consent  to  my  dismission.  But  my  own  reflections  on  the  sub- 
ject have  not  led  me  to  form  such  an  opinion.  I  can  only  say, 
as  I  have  already  said,  that  I  wish  you  to  hear  the  whole  case 
and  then  to  decide  for  yourselves  whether  those  great  and  gen- 
eral interests,  which  as  citizens  and  as  Christians  we  ought  all 
to  regard,  require  you  to  give  up  your  Pastor  to  this  call. 
Respectfully  and  affectionately  your  friend  and  Pastor, 

LEONARD  BACON. 

New  Haveo,  Monday,  'id  September,  1839. 


HIS    LKAVK    OF    ABSENCE.  25 


Proceedings  in  relaiion  lo  j^ivin^'  Rev.  Dr.  Bacon 
a  Temporary  Absence. 


SPECIAL    MEETING.  . 

At  a  special  meeting  of  tlie  First  Ecclesiastical  Society  in 
New  Haven,  held  pursuant  to  legal  notice  at  their  lecture- 
room  in  Orange  street,  on  the  15th  day  of  July,  1850,  at  half- 
past  7  o'clock  P.  M.  Dr.  Jonathan  Knight  was  chosen  nmxler- 
ator.  Edward  I.  Sanford  was  appointed  to  act  as  clerk  of  the 
society  during  the  absence  of  Henry  AYhite,  Es(|. 

The  object  of  the  meeting  was  to  consider  a  pi'oposition  to 
give  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bacor  a  temporary  respite  from  his  labors  as 
Pastor  of  the  society.  A  communication  was  received  from 
the  Pastor  relative  to  the  matter,  and  sundry  resolutions  were 
offered. 

Yoted,  That  the  members  of  the  society  present  aj)prove  of 
the  general  object  of  the  resolutions  and  that  the  same, 
together  with  the  communication,  be  referred  to  a  committee 
of  three,  who  shall  report  at  the  next  meeting. 

Henry  Peck,  Henry  Trowbridge,  and  Jonathan  Knight 
were  appointed  such  committee. 

The  society  then  adjourned  to  meet  at  the  chapel  in  Orange 
street,  on  Monday  evening,  July  22,  1850,  at  half-past  7 
o'clock. 

Attest,  EDWARD  I.  SANFORD, 

Society's  Clerl\  jyro  tern. 


26  LEONARD    BACON. 


ADJOURNED    MEETING. 


The  society  met  pursuant  to  adjourunient  on  Monday 
evening,  July  22,  A.  D.  1850.  Dr.  Jonathan  Knight  in  the 
chair. 

The  committee  to  Avhom  was  referred  tlie  resolutions  and 
communication,  referred  to  in  the  record  of  the  last  meeting, 
made  verbal  report  that  tliej^  had  had  under  consideration  the 
matters  referred  to  them,  and  would  beg  leave  to  offer  the  fol- 
lowing resolutions  and  reply  to  the  Pastor's  letter  of  the  15th. 

The  following  is  the  communication  presented  at  the  last 
meeting,  and  now  re-read. 

To  the  First  EcclemintiGal  Society  in  New  Haoen  : 

Gentlemen — I  have  been  informed  that  you  are  summoned 
to  meet  this  evening  with  reference  to  giving  your  Pastor 
leave  of  absence  for  a  few  months,  and  it  has  occurred  to  me 
that  some  expression  of  my  views  and  wishes  may  be  not 
unacceptable. 

You  will  allow  me  then  to  say  that  I  have  felt  very  sensibly 
the  kindness  with  w^hich  many  of  you  have  proposed  to  me  a 
temporary  suspension  of  my  labors  among  you,  and  a  voyage 
across  the  Atlantic  ;  I  have  a  strong  desire  to  visit  the  churches 
of  the  country  from  which  our  ancestors  came,  to  see  what  a 
stranger  can  see  of  the  state  of  religion  there,  and  in  some 
other  countries  of  the  old  world.  I  have  a  yet  stronger  desire 
to  visit,  if  possiljle,  the  various  missionary  stations  in  the 
countries  surrounding  the  Mediterranean,  and  most  of  all  to 
visit  Palestine  and  the  adjoining  regions — the  lands  of  the 
Bible.  I  have  thought  that  at  my  time  of  life,  after  a  quarter 
of  a  century  of  labors,  which,  however  unworthily  performed, 
have  rarely  been  interrupted,  a  vacation  of  perhaps  a  twelve- 
month, spent  amid  new  scenes  and  new  excitements,  may  be 
the  means  of  postponing  for  a  while  that  decay  of  natural 
vigor  which  must,  ere  long,  begin  to  come  upon  me.  I  have 
thought  that  in  such  a  circle  of  travel  as  I  have  been  led  to 
contemplate,  I  might  be  continually  increasing  my  resources  of 
knowledge,    and  preparing  myself  to  be  more  useful  if  God 


HIS    LKAVK    OF    AHSKNCE.  2T 

sliould  ^ive  me  a  prosperous  joiinioy  and  a  safe  retui-ii.  Tliis 
is  what  I  have  thoiiolit  of  since  the  sul)ject  has  been  proposed 
to  nie,  and  with  great  kindness  nri>ed  npon  nie. 

AVhetlier  it  will  be  in  niv  power  to  leave  niv  family  the 
present  season  is  very  d(»ul)tful.  The  protracted  illness  of  a 
dear  and  venerable  member  of  my  family  forbids  me  just  now 
to  leave  her.  But,  if  by.  the  lirst  of  September  next  her  health 
should  be  restored,  I  think  I  shall  be  willing  to  go,  provided 
the  consent  of  the  church  and  society  be  freely  given.  Should 
there  be  any  reluctance  on  your  ])art  I  shall  readily  give  up  the 
plan.  If  you  give  your  consent  to  my  going,  I  shall  wish  to 
make  whatever  arrangements  will  be  most  satisfactory  to  y(ju 
for  the  supply  of  my  place  in  my  absence.  With  a  most  grate- 
ful remembrance  of  the  kindness  which  you  have  shown 
toward  me  these  many  years,  I  am,  gentlemen,  affectionately 
your  friend  and  Pastor, 

LEON^AED  BACOX. 

New  Haven.  July  15,  1850. 


REPLY    OFFERED    FOR   CONSIDERATION    BY   THE    COMMITTEE. 

The    First   Ecclesiastical   Society   in   New  Haven  to  Rev. 
Leonard  Bacon,  D.D. : 

Rev.  AND  Dear  Sir — This  society  has  received  your  com- 
munication of  the  15tli  of  July,  and  given  it  that  consideration 
which  its  importance  demands.  While  regretting  that  for  any 
cause  we  may  be  deprived  for  a  season  of  your  useful  and  val- 
ued labors  among  us,  we  are  fully  aware  of  the  force  of  the 
reasons  which  have  led  you  to  contemplate  a  temporary  suspen- 
sion of  them  for  the  purposes  mentioned  in  your  communica- 
tion to  us.  Believing  as  we  do  that  a  suspension  of  your 
arduous  ministerial  labors,  which  have  been  continued  almost 
without  interruption  for  twenty-five  years,  and  a  journey  to 
countries  so  full  of  interest  to  every  literary  man,  and  especially 
to  every  Christian  minister,  as  those  which  you  propose  to 
visit  will  promote  your  happiness,  your  health  and  future  use- 
fulness, we  cheerfully  consent  to  a  suspension  of  them  for  such 
a  time  as  may  be  necessary  for  this  purpose. 


28  LEONARD    BACON. 

We  would  also  express  tlie  heartfelt  desire  that  all  your  an- 
ticipation of  present  enjoyment,  of  increased  vigor  of  body  and 
mind,  and  of  capacity  for  future  usefulness,  from  the  measure 
proposed,  may  be  fidly  realized. 

With  much  respect  and  esteem,  your  parishioners  and  friends, 
in  l)ehalf  of  the  society. 

J.   KXKrllT,  Chairman. 

Edward  I.  Sanford,  Clerk.  , 

New  Haven,  July  22,  1850. 


Resolved^  That  the  Rev.  Leonard  Bacon  have  leave  to  sus- 
pend his  ordinary  ministerial  labors  with  this  society  for  such  a 
time  as  he  may  jiidge  necessary  to  accomplish  the  objects  men- 
tioned in  his  recent  connnunication  to  this  society,  and  that  his 
usual  salary  shall  be  continued  to  him  during  such  suspension. 

Resolved.,  That  the  society's  committee  be  requested  to  pro- 
vide for  such  expenses  as  may  accrue  in  providing  ministerial 
labor  during  the  absence  of  the  minister  of  the  society. 

Resolved^  That  a  connnittee  of  live  be  apjjointed  whcj,  after 
consulting  with  oui'  respected  minister,  shall  have  in  charge  the 
duty  of  providing  such  ministerial  labor  as  shall  be  necessary 
during  his  absence,  and  that  the  society's  committee  be  reques- 
ted to  appoint  two  of  their  nundjer  to  be  mend)ers  of  said  com- 
mittee. 

Voted,  That  the  report  of  the  committee  be  accepted,  and 
that  the  resolutions  be  passed. 

In  accordance  with  the  third  resolution,  Dr.  Jonathan  Knight, 
Charles  Robinson,  Esq.,  and  Deacon  Lewis  Hotchkiss  were 
appointed  as  part  of  the  connnittee  in  l)elialf  of  the  society. 


AMOX(;    THK    K(>OKI)S.  29 


Extracts  from  a  Letter  from  Dr.  Bacon 

GIVING    AN    ACCOUNT    OF 

Ills    EXPEEIEN(^E    WITH    THE    KOORDS. 


[He  left  Mosul  for  Oorooiuiah  in  coinpanv  with  liis  son  and 
Rev.  Mr.  Marsh,  an  American  Missionary.] 

Instead  of  pitching-  our  tent  and  sleeping  under  the  canvas, 
we  spread  our  beds  on  the  roof  of  a  house ;  and  after  connnit- 
ting  oui-selves  and  tlie  dear  and  distant  objects  of  our  affections 
to  the  mercies  of  a  covenant  God,  we  lay  down  to  sleep  with 
the  everlasting  mountains  around  us,  and  with  the  starry  host 
watching  in  the  ti-an(|uil,  cloudless  sky  above  us.  The  house 
which  gaA'e  us  its  little  Hat  roof  for  a  resting  place  was  built 
against  the  hill  side,  so  that  on  the  rear  it  was  not  more  than 
four  feet  above  the  ground,  and  a  projecting  rock  conveniently 
near  served  us  instead  of  ladder  or  staircase.  That  our  l)aggage 
might  be  safe  from  nocturnal  pillagers,  and  that  we  and  our 
men  might  sleep  without  any  anxiety  on  that  score,  we  hired 
an  old  man  of  the  village  to  keep  watch  on  the  roof  through 
the  night.  In  the  course  of  the  night  Mr.  Marsh  w^as  awakened 
by  a  low  sound  of  voices  in  a  kind  of  suppressed  conversation. 
Raising  himself  a  little  from  the  pillow,  and  propping  himself 
on  his  ell)ow,  he  saw  in  the  star-light  several  men — he  thinks 
there  were  six — stealthily  a])i)roaehing  the  house  toward  one  of 
the  corners  where  the  roof  came  nearest 'to  the  ground.  ()])- 
serving  that  he  \vas  awake  they  suddenly  stopped  and  after  ex- 
changing a  few  whispers  one  of  them  came  upon  the  roof  with 
his  gun  in  his  hand,  and  without  giving  any  answer  to  Mr. 
Marsh,  wdio  addressed  him  in  Aral)ic,  he  entered  into  conversa- 
tion in  a  low  voice  with  our  sentinel,  who  aj)i3ears  to  have  been 
asleep  and  just  then  to  have  waked  from  his  slumber.  By  this 
4 


30  LEONARD    BACON. 

time  I  had  begun  to  be  aware  that  something  was  going  on 
around  me,  and  Mr.  Marsh  spoke  to  me  and  told  me  that  there 
was  a  man  upon  the  roof.  Our  unwelcome  visitor  soon  de- 
scended and  went  off  with  his  companions.  Khudr  [their  serv- 
ant], who  had  been  waked  from  a-  profound  and  well-earned 
sleep,  and  who,  like  the  rest  of  us,  was  not  without  alarm  at 
what  we  had  seen,  enquired  of  our  sentinel  as  to  the  meaning  of 
all  this.  His  report  to  us  was  that  these  were  men  of  the  village 
who,  returning  home  at  a  late  hour,  and  perceiving  that  there 
had  been  an  arrival  of  strangers  were  curious  to  enquire  about 
us.     Satisfied  with  this  explanation  we  slept  on  till  morning. 

But  in  the  morning,  when  we  were  just  ready  to  go  on  our 
way,  our  old  watchman  told  us  another  story.  The  men,  he 
now  said,  were  from  the  next  village  on  our  road.  They  came 
with  the  intention  of  killing  us,  and  were  hindered  from  exe- 
cuting their  purpose  only  because  we  were  under  his  protection 
and  in  relations  of  hospitality  with  his  village.  He  added  that 
he  had  given  us  a  different  account  in  the  night  l)ecause  he  was 
unwilliuij:  to  alarm  us.  What  were  we  to  do  in  these  circum- 
stances  'i  The  man,  according  to  his  own  account,  had  no  scru- 
ple about  sj)eaking  falsehood,  when  falsehood  was  necessary  to 
what  he  considered  a  good  end.  Whether  the  story  of  the 
night,  or  that  of  the  morning,  or  some  other  story  yet  to  be 
told,  was  the  true  one,  who  can  decide  'i  At  the  next  village 
was  an  Agha  from  whom,  as  we  had  been  told  at  Akre,  it 
would  be  important  to  obtain  a  letter.  To  him  we  were  ex- 
pecting to  present  our  letter  from  the  Pooha  of  Mosul  with  a 
request  for  such  an  escort  as  might  be  necessary  for  our  safety. 
After  consultation  with  the  muleteers  and  the  others  in  our 
caravan,  finding  that  in  their  opinion  our  nocturnal  visitors  were 
men  of  Biyeh,  we  determined  on  proceeding  and  hired  our  old 
man  to  go  with  us  and  present  us  to  the  Agha. 

At  the  distance  of  about  two  hours  from  Biyeh,  oui"  road 
which  for  some  time  had  been  a  narrow  path  ])etween  a  steep 
ascent  on  one  side  and  the  steeper  bank  of  a  rivulet  on  the 
other,  l)rought  us  to  the  l)ase  of  a  projecting  ledge  of  rock, 
where  an  armed  party  of  six  men  were  waiting  to  meet  us. 
They  first  addressed  our  guide,  and  seemed  dis2)osed  to  (piarrel 
with  him  for  having  taken  us  under  his  protection.     It  was  ex- 


A  mom:    'IMIK    KOOUDS.  .)| 

plained  to  tlicm  that  we  were  ^'oiiii;-  to  the  A^-lia  ;  l»iit  after  a 
brief  couversation  between  tlieiii  on  one  side  and  the  ninleteei-s 
and  Khndi-  on  tlie  otlier,  they  refused  to  let  us  pass  without  a 
present  or  Itakhshisli  of  Hfty  piastres,  a  little  nioiv  than  two 
dollars.  This  we  consented  to  ii;ive  tlieni,  glad  to  escape  at  so 
cheap  a  rate,  but  we  sti])ulated  with  them  and  they  accepted 
our  proposal,  that  in  return  for  our  bakhshish  they  should  escort 
us  to  the  Aglia.  l)Ut  here  arose  a  new  difficulty.  We  had  not 
so  much  money  in  oni-  pockets  and  all  that  we  and  Khudr  could 
make  out  was  less  than  twenty  piastres.  Tlie  remaindei'  oi'  oiir 
ti'a\elino;  money  was  packed  away  among  our  luggage.  We 
feared  to  unload  a  mule  in  the  presence  of  such  persons,  whose 
forl)earance  was  not  likely  to  be  proof  against  much  tem])tation. 
Our  proposal  to  pay  a  ])art  of  the  money  in  a(hance  and  the 
remainder  on  our  ari'ival  at  the  Agha's  house  was  tiei'cely  re- 
jected, and  while  we  were  consulting  for  a  moment  among  our- 
selves, they  hastily  primed  and  cocked  their  guns ;  three  of 
them  placed  themselves  in  the  narrowest  part  of  the  pass  before 
us  and  the  other  three  leaped  behind  the  rock,  which  served 
them  as  a  parapet,  and  resting  their  long  guns  on  the  rock  with 
a  grin  of  fiendish  delight  took  aim  at  us.  Negotiation  was  ob- 
viously at  an  end.  We  gave  them  to  understand  that  we  sur- 
rendered and  inmiediately  prepared  to  unload  the  mule  in  order 
to  get  at  the  writing  case  in  which  our  money  was  deposited. 
In  this  emergency  our  chief  muleteer,  who  had  at  first  declined 
rendering  us  any  such  aid,  offered  to  loan  us  as  much  as  would 
make  up  the  fifty  piasters ;  and  the  matter  Ijeing  thus  adjusted 
we  set  forward  under  the  charge  of  our  stipendiary  cohort,  com- 
forting ourselves  with  the  thought  that  after  all  the  robbers 
had  not  taken  any  more  than  the  State  of  ^ew  Jersey  would 
have  exacted  from  us  for  the  privilege  of  passing  through  her 
territory  on  a  railway. 

We  had  gone  only  a  few  rods  from  the  place  of  our  encounter 
when  the  men  in  charge  of  us  were  hailed  by  another  party 
stationed  near  the  road,  and  after  some  consultation  of  which 
we  knew  not  the  purport,  a  detachment  from  the  second  party 
was  added  to  our  escort.  As  we  proceeded  with  so  many  around 
us,  watching  us  at  every  step,  we  could  not  but  feel  that  we 
were  marching  rather  like  prisoners  than  like  persons  guarded 
for  their  own  protection. 


32  LEONARD    BACON. 

The  village  began  to  be  in  sight.  Its  aspect  was  decidedly 
unpromising.  In  an  isolated  position,  chosen  obviously  with 
something  of  a  military  eye,  stood  what  might  be  called  a  castle 
— a  small,  rectangular  building  of  the  rudest  masonry,  with 
loop  holes  instead  of  windows,  and  at  one  end  of  it,  a  little  cir- 
cular tower.  As  we  drew  near  the  castle,  men,  women  and  chil- 
dren began  to  show  themselves  with  evident  indications  of  ex- 
citement. We  came  to  the  platform  before  the  door  and  while 
we  were  in  the  act  of  dismounting,  the  rapacious  scoundrels 
Hew  upon  our  two  servants,  tore  from  them  the  arms  that  were 
attached  to  their  persons,  slashing  the  straps  and  belts  with 
their  daggers,  seized  every  thing  that  was  in  their  pockets  or 
girdles,  stripped  from  their  heads  the  caps  whicli  they  wore, 
bound  round  with  handkercliiefs  like  turbans — and  all  in  a 
twinkling.  At  the  same  UKjuient  another  snatched  a  handker- 
chief from  the  pocket  of  Mr.  Marsh's  linen  coat,  tearing  (tut  in 
his  violence  the  button  hole  into  which  the  corner  of  it  was 
fastened,  while  still  another  tore  the  umbrella  from  the  hand  of 
my  son.  This  was  evidently  a  perilous  place  to  come  to,  but 
on  the  appearance  of  the  lord  of  the  castle  the  process  of  strip- 
ping us  was  suddenly  arrested,  and  something  like  order  was 
restored.  He  was  taller  and  evidently  stronger  than  any  of  his 
men,  with  some  marks  of  superiority  in  his  aspect  and  bearing. 
This  was  the  Agha  to  whom  we  had  come  for  protection  on 
our  journey  and  behold  we  were  at  the  mercy  of  a  band  of  sav- 
age robbers. 

With  a  moti(jn  of  his  hand  the  chief  directed  us  to  a  place 
(me  or  two  lumdred  yards  distant,  where  a  spreading  mulberry 
tree  offered  us  some  shelter  from  the  noonday  heat.  Some  of 
the  savages  were  constantly  near  us,  keeping  guard  over  us. 
The  thought  occurred  to  some  of  us  that  perhaps  the  object  of 
this  movement  was  to  have  us  in  a  more  convenient  place  for 
the  execution  of  their  bloody  pui-pose.  Soon  afterwards  Kliudr, 
who  was  the  only  one  that  understood  the  language  of  these 
savages,  and  who  had  been  anxiously  seeking  information  both 
by  interrogating  the  muleteers  and  by  listening  to  the  conver- 
sati(m  around  the  castle,  came  to  us  with  the  information  that 
they  intended  to  kill  us.  The  muleteers  they  said,  and  the  men 
with  the  donkeys,  were  Koords  and  would  be  allowed  to  go 


AMOXC    TIFE    KOOHDS.  33 

wliuiv  tlu'V  i>k';iM'(l;  l>ut  wc  wx'vv  I'l'aiiks  and  if  \\r  wciv  j)er- 
mittcMl  ti)  t'scapi'  wc  should  hriiiu-  tliciii  into  trouhle  with  the 
•^oveniiiient.  This  was  a  new  kind  of  experience  to  nie — to  all 
(tf  us. 

It  was  not  without  a  nervous  shriidvin"-  that  I  had  seen  the 
rilles  of  murderers  pointed  at  us  from  behind  the  rocks;  that, 
however,  w'as  only  a  sudden  and  momentarv  Hasli  of  peril.  Ihit 
here  was  the  announcement  of  a  deliberate  purpose  in  regard  to 
us.  We  were  sentenced,  as  it  were,  to  immediate  and  l)loody 
death.  And  w^e  were  to  die  thus — so  far  away  from  home  and 
country  and  friends. 

T  cast  one  glance  upon  the  vast  amphitheatre  of  mountains. 
I  felt  that  I  was  in  the  presence  and  in  the  hands  of  Him  'who 
setteth  fast  the  mountains  by  His  power,"'  and  without  whom 
not  a  hair  of  our  head  could  fall  to  the  grouiul. 

r  will  not  undertake  to  account  for  it — perliaps  my  mind 
was  stunned  and  made  in  some  measure  iiisensil)le  l)y  the  an- 
nouncement that  our  death  had  l)eeii  determined  upon.  What- 
ever may  have  been  the  cause,  I  proved  myself  strangely  tran- 
quil and  self-possessed,  as  if  I  was  sure  of  being  delivered.  So 
it  seemed  to  be  with  my  companions.  Not  one  of  us  gave  any 
sign  of  agitation. 

A  moment's  consultation  was  enough  to  determine  what  we 
should  do.  We  had  come  to  the  Agha  as  a  man  having  author- 
ity ;  we  had  come  with  a  document  in  our  hands  which  had 
given  us  the  right  to  demand  protection  and  an  escort ;  and  we 
immediately  sent  our  servant  to  say  to  him  that  we  wanted 
to  see  him  either  where  we  w^ere  or  in  his  castle. 

While  Khudr  was  gone  on  this  errand,  as  nobody  was  then 
just  near  enough  to  disturb  us,  the  moment  seemed  favorable 
for  uniting  in  vocal  prayer.  Not  wishing  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  our  Moslem  captors,  we  made  only  a  slight  change  of 
position  and  our  supplications  were  made  in  a  voice  which  none 
of  them  could  hear.  With  one  voice  and  mind  we  committed 
ourselves  to  the  powder,  the  care,  the  loving  kindness  of  a  re- 
deeming God,  to  live  or  to  die  as  his  wisdom  should  determine. 

We  prayed  that  if  it  were  consistent  with  his  counsels,  we 
might  be  delivered  out  of  the  hands  of  these  unreasonable  and 
wicked  men ;  and  that  He  in  whose  hands  are  the  hearts  of 


34  LEONARD    BACON. 

men,  and  who  can  turn  tlieni  as  the  rivers  of  water  are  turned, 
would  so  inflnence  tlieir  thoughts,  dividing  their  minds  and 
turning  their  counsels  int(»  foolishness  as  to  baitte  their  pur- 
poses and  procure  our  deliverance.  If  we  were  then  and  there  to 
die,  we  would  die  trusting  in  C-hrist  and  saving,  Loi'd  Jesus 
receive  our  spirits  ;  and  we  prayed  that  whatever  should  befall 
us  might  turn  out  for  the  furtherance  of  the  gospel. 

We  prayed  for  the  dear  ones  far  away,  ])ound  to  us  by  the 
tenderest  ties  of  human  affection,  whose  faces  w^e  were  perhaps 
never  again  to  see  among  the  living.  For  all  their  welfare, 
temporal  and  eternal,  we  committed  them  to  our  covenant  (iod. 
We  prayed  for  the  dear  churches  in  our  native  land  in  which 
we  were  especially  interested,  and  for  the  universal  kingdom  of 
Christ.  We  prayed  for  those  dark  mountains,  full  of  the  habi- 
tations of  cruelty,  that  the  daysj)ring  from  on  high  might  visit 
them,  and  even  the  men  that  were  thirsting  for  our  blood 
might  put  on  the  nature  of  the  Lamb  and  learn  to  sit  at  the 
feet  of  Jesus. 

When  we  had  closed  this  act  of  worship  we  found  Ivhudr 
waiting  with  an  answer  to  our  message.  The  Agha  said  it  was 
very  hot  just  then,  we  had  better  prepare  our  dinner  and  eat  it 
in  peace ;  in  the  cool  of  the  day  he  would  come  and  examine 
our  baggage  and  take  from  us  whatever  he  should  choose.  We 
could  not  be  jDermitted  either  to  pursue  our  intended  journey 
or  to  go  back  to  Mosul,  but  the  next  day  he  would  send  us  to 
some  other  Agha  in  the  mountains.  There  was  nothing  more 
for  us  to  do.  So  we  told  Khudr  to  bring  forth  what  provision 
there  was  for  our  dimier  and  prepared  ourselves  to  eat  with 
such  appetite  as  we  might  have  when  food  should  be  set  before 
us. 

Mr.  Marsh  had  l)een  for  two  or  three  days  under  the  neces- 
sity of  taking  a  few  drops  of  laudanum  before  each  meal ; 
accordingly,  the  traveling-l)ag,  in  whicli  I  carried  my  little 
assortment  of  medicines,  was  brought  and  oj^tened.  The  conse- 
quence was  that  Melul  Agha,  alarmed  probably  with  the  suspi- 
cion that  we  were  attempting  to  conceal  our  money,  found  it 
convenient  not  to  defer  to  the  cool  of  the  day  his  ])romised  visit 
of  inspection  and  appro})riation.  He  came  striding  from  tlie 
castle,  and  having  satisiied  himself  as  to  the  medicine-box,  pro- 


AM(1X(;    TIIK    KOORDS.  :^5 

ceeded  to  search  the  l):iii-  fnnii  wliicli  it  had  \)ven  taken,  and 
then  re(|uired  ns  to  open  all  onr  haii^aiic  In  ^Iv.  Marsh's 
writiiiii;-ease  was  a  hai;-  containing  1, (>(»(>  piastres  (ahont  s4r>.5(>), 
all  that  remained  of  the  money  we  had  taken  for  onr  journey. 
In  my  own  case  were  sixty  piastres  belonging  to  Khndr. 
These  sums  of  money,  two  razors,  a  very  large  pocket-knife,  a 
few  handkerchiefs,  and  similar  articles,  he  took  into  his  posses- 
sion, lie  then  directed  us  to  ])ack  nji  our  goods  again,  which 
we  did  with  all  practical  expedition,  for  his  light-iingered  fol- 
lowers hung  around  us  in  a  cloud  seizing  whate\er  they 
could  touch,  when  his  eye  was  not  on  them.  After  this,  he 
and  his  principal  men  sat  down  on  the  rock  just  behind,  above 
us,  and  under  the  same  shade  which  protected  us.  Our  dinner 
was  brought,  and  we  proceeded  with  the  eating  of  it,  while 
they  were  evidently  engaged  in  some  grave  debate  of  which 
we  knew  that  we  were  the  subject.  We  had  concluded  our 
repast  l)efore  they  had  concluded  their  debate,  though  we  were 
"by  no  means  in  a  hurry  with  our  eating.  After  a  while  clouds 
suddenly  gathered  above  us  ;  there  was  a  growl  of  thunder,  and 
a  brief  yet  heavy  shower  drove  the  council  into  the  castle, 
while  we  found  such  shelter  as  we  could  under  a  liuge  felt  gar- 
ment l)elonging  to  one  of  our  muleteers. 

AVhile  the  Aglia  and  the  council  were  in  the  castle,  one  inci- 
dent occurred  of  which  we  had  no  knowledge  until  the  next 
day.  They  sunnnoned  Khudr  into  their  presence  and  putting 
a  dagger  to  his  throat  required  him  under  pain  of  instant  death 
to  tell  what  we  had  done  with  the  rest  of  our  money.  He 
assured  them  that  he  knew  we  had  no  other  money  than  that 
which  they  liad  already  seized,  and  that  we  carried  with  us 
only  enough  for  the  expenses  of  the  road  to  Ooroomiah.  At 
last  we  saw  them  approaching  from  the  castle,  the  chief  and 
the  throng  of  his  follo\vers.  Our  l)aggage  underwent  a  new 
search,  and  in  default  of  money  large  appropriations  were  made 
of  our  goods.  Why  they  took  so  much  was  not  wonderful, 
it  was  only  strange  that  they  took  so  little.  Our  fear  was  that 
what  they  left  us  was  only  designed  to  pay  somebody  else  for 
murdering  us.  After  this  the  Agha  examined  our  persons 
with  some  formality,  in  the  presence  of  his  leading  men,  a])]mr- 
ently  appealing  to  them  to  bear  witness. 


36  LEONARD   BACON. 

At  last,  not  far  from  four  o'clock,  we  received  the  instruction 
that  we  were  to  ])e  sent  away  innnediately,  and  the  mnles  were 
hrought  np  to  receive  their  loads.  This  was  a  relief,  though  as 
yet  we  knew  not  whither  we  were  going.  Had  our  removal 
been  postponed  until  morning  there  were  men  enough  there 
who  would  have  murdered  us  in  the  night  for  the  sake  of  strip- 
ping our  dead  bodies  and  settling  the  dispute  what  should  be 
done  with  us.  A  guard  of  five  armed  men,  and  one  old  man 
unarmed,  accompanied  us.  After  we  had  traveled  perhaps  a 
mile,  we  passed  a  village  and  there  a  Christian,  of  one  of  the 
native  sects,  from  Akre,  came  out  to  see  us  and  to  express  his 
sympathy.  From  him  our  servant  learned  that  they  were  tak- 
ing us  to  a  certain  Mullah,  who  was  a  good  man  and  greatly 
venerated,  and  who  would  l)e  able  to  protect  us.  When  we 
had  gone  perhaps  an  hour  further  a  party  of  Koords  hailed  our 
escort  from  a  neighboring  mountain-side,  and  a  parley  took 
place  which  we  did  not  understand.  Immediately  afterward, 
one  of  tlie  donkey-men,  who  had  been  in  our  caravan  ever  since 
we  left  Akre,  came  up  by  the  side  of  Mr.  Marsh,  and  in  a  few 
words  of  broken  Arabic  tried  to  make  him  understand  that  he 
thought  we  could  rely  on  the  fidelity  of  our  guard.  Calling 
Khudr  to  interpret,  we  found  that  the  party  on  the  hill  had 
wanted  the  pri\alege  of  killing  us  and  that  our  escort  had  re- 
fused to  indulge  them.  After  these  successive  announcements 
we  breathed  more  freely,  though  we  were  still  on  the  look-out 
for  some  ambush  or  sudden  assault. 

It  was  nearly  sunset  when  we  arrived  at  Yeaubeh,  a  very 
small  village  in  a  deep,  narrow  valley,  inclosed  on  all  sides  w^th 
an  irregular  barrier  of  mountains.  Here  we  were  presented  to 
Mullah  Mustapha,  who  came  forth  to  meet  our  caravan  as  it 
approached  his  dwelling.  Our  lirst  sight  of  this  man  prepos- 
sessed us  in  his  favor.  He  stood  unarmed  among  his  unarmed 
villagers,  and  received  with  graceful  dignity  the  homage  of 
those  barbarians  as  they  successively  approached  and  kissed  his 
hand.  He  accepted  courteously  our  more  occidental  saluta- 
tions, and  immediately  conducted  us  to  his  house  and  showed 
us  the  terrace  which  we  might  occupy.  Having  seen  our 
biyuraldeh  he  remarked  that  Melul  Agha  had  committed  a 
very  great  error,  that  he  would  read  over  the  document  at  his 


AMONG    THE    KOORDS.  37 

leisure  ;iii(l  in  tlu-  nioi'iiiiii;  would  consult  Mitli  us  ;is  t*>  wliut 
should  \)v  doiK'  for  our  safoty.  We  felt  that  (tocI  had  vvroui^ht 
for  us  a  wonderful  deliverance;  and  we  could  not  resist  the 
belief  that  he  would  complete  the  work  which  lie  had  begun. 

We  lay  down  and  slept  that  night  without  any  apprehension 
of  danger.  At  the  earliest  hour  in  the  morning  we  were  hon- 
ored with  a  visit  from  our  host,  who  withdrew  us  to  a  corner, 
and  in  low,  half-whispered  tones  informed  us  that  two  of  our 
mules  and  one  of  the  donkeys  had  been  stolen  in  the  night,  but 
that  he  was  contident  he  should  l)e  able  to  get  them  back  in 
the  course  of  the  day.  He  then  asked  us  about  oui-  i)lans.  We 
told  him  that  we  preferred  going  through  to  Ooroomiah,  which 
was  as  near  as  Mosul ;  but  if  we  could  not  proceed  in  safety  we 
wanted  to  return.  He  said  that  messages  had  been  sent  to  the 
chiefs  in  every  direction  to  kill  us;' that  on  the  road  to  Ooroo- 
miah he  could  go  with  us  for  one  day's  journey,  l)ut  beyond 
that  would  be  unable  to  secure  our  safety ;  that  if  we  chose  to 
return  he  would  go  ^vitli  us  a  part  of  the  way,  and  would  send 
his  brother  to  accompany  us  until  we  should  be  out  of  danger. 
Our  determination  was  soon  made 

On  Friday,  May  30,  our  stolen  animals  having  been  restored, 
we  started  before  sunrise.  Mullah  Mustapha  accompanied  us 
on  one  of  our  mules,  his  brother,  Abd  el  Rahman,  on  foot. 
After  four  or  five  hours  we  came  to  the  village  or  sunnner  en- 
campment of  another  Agha,  colleague  as  it  were,  and  ri\al   of 

Melul  Agha At  last  the  Agha  himself.   Khan  Al)dul- 

lali,  a  villainous-looking  old  man,  with  a  gray  beard  dyed  red, 
came  and  took  a  seat  beside  our  friend  tlie  Mullah.  As  he 
looked  toward  me  I  caught  his  eye  and  saluted  him.  With  an 
ungracious  look  he  returned  the  salute,  and  we  all  rose  and  paid 
our  respects.  After  a  protracted  conversation  })etween  him 
and  our  friend,  Khudr  was  called  and  through  him  Khan  Ab- 
dullah informed  us  that  if  we  had  come  alone  he  would  have 
killed  us,  but  that  the  presence  and  friendship  of  Mullah  Musta- 
pha was  our  protection 

Now  for  the  explanation  of  all  this.  These  people  were  on 
the  lookout  for  us  and  were  expecting  to  kill  us.  When  we 
were  seen  approaching.  Khan  Abdullah  sent  one  of  his  sons, 
with  a  sutticient  number  of  men,  to  execute  his  purpose.     They 


38  LEONARD    BACON. 

were  hindered  l)y  their  Moslem  reverence  for  the  Mnllah,  and 
by  his  strennously  insisting  tliat  they  slionld  observe  tlie  laws 
of  hospitality.  Perceiving  that  the  thing  was  not  done,  he  sent 
a  younger  son  with  another  party  of  men  to  hurry  the  busi- 
ness ;  and  afterward,  quite  out  of  patience,  he  came  himself  to 
see  what  was  the  reason  they  were  so  long  about  so  trifling  a 
job.  The  Mullah,  in  the  debate  which  followed,  showed  him 
that  this  might  be  made  an  occasion  for  putting  down  Melul 
Agha ;  insisted  very  much  on  our  consequence  and  on  the  ven- 
geance which  the  government  would  be  compelled  to  take  if 
any  harm  should  come  upon  us,  until  at  last  the  Khan  showed 
to  him  and  to  Khudr  a  letter  from  an  Agha,  residing  near 
Akre,  to  Melul  Agha,  giving  information  of  our  route  and 
advising  him  to  rob  and  kill  us.  This  letter  was  indorsed  with 
a  note  from  Melul  Agha  to  Khan  Abdullah  informing  him  that 
he  had  robbed  us  in  part  and  advising  him  to  take  what  was 
left  and  kill  us.  Messages  of  the  same  tenor  liad  been  sent  in 
every  direction. 


HIS  retiremp:nt.  39 


DR.   BACON'S  RETIREMENT. 


Action  of  the  Society. 

i,Vt  the  annual  meeting  of  the  society  hekl  in  December, 
1865,  a  committee  was  appointed  to  consider  the  Pastor's  sug- 
gestions in  his  sermon  of  the  previous  Marcli,  wlio  reported  to 
an  adjourned  meeting. 

The  society  met  pursuant  to  adjournnient.  at  tlie  meeting- 
house of  tlie  society,  on  Monchiy,  February  .5.  ISOC),  at  1^ 
o'clock  P.  M. 

Charles  Kobinson  was  appointed  moderator. 

The  committee  appointed,  at  the  meeting  of  the  society  held 
January  10,  1866,  to  take  into  consideration  the  suggestions 
made  by  the  Pastor,  in  his  anniversary  sermon  preached  in 
March  last,  presented  the  following  report : 

The  committee  appointed  by  the  first  Ecclesiastical  Society, 
to  take  into  consideration  the  communication  made  by  the 
Pastor  to  the  church  and  society,  in  the  month  of  March  last, 
^vnth  respect  to  his  pastoral  relations,  respectfully  report : 

That  three  topics,  in  particular,  seemed  to  them  to  require  to 
be  considered,  namely :  tirst,  the  (juestion  of  acquiescing,  or 
not,  in  the  wish  expressed  by  the  Pastor,  in  that  communica- 
tion, to  be  relieved  of  the  responsibilities  of  his  pastoral  rela- 
tions ;  secondly,  in  case  that  question  should  be  decided  aftirm- 
atively,  whetlier  or  not  that  particular  mode  of  proceeding, 
with  a  view  to  the  relief  of  the  Pastor,  suggested  in  that  com- 
nmnication,  should  be  adopted  ;  and  thirdly,  in  the  event  of  the 
retirement  of  the  Pastor  from  the  duties  of  his  office,  what  pro- 
vision should  be  nuide  for  him  l)y  the  society,  as  an  expression 
of  their  respect  and  affection  ;  and  that,  accordingly,  after  much 
conference  and  discussion,  the  connnittee  have  agreed,  unani- 
mously, to  recommend  to  the  society,  for  its  adoption,  the  fol- 
lowing resolutions : 


40  LEONARD    BACON. 

First,  That,  appreciating  tlie  distinguished  abilities  of  our 
Pastor,  and  seeing  no  symptoms  of  decline  of  power  which 
should  lead  him  to  wish  for  relief,  we  nevertheless  deem  it 
proper  and  expedient  that  his  desire  to  l)e  relieved  of  all  charge 
and  responsibility  in  the  pastoral  relation  as  exercised  l)y  him, 
in  his  communication  to  the  church  and  society  of  last  March 
and  repeated  to  our  committee,  be  complied  with,  as  soon  as 
suitable  provisions  for  that  end  shall  have  been  made. 

Second,  As  regards  the  method  of  proceeding  in  this  matter, 
that,  in  our  opinion,  for  the  interests  of  the  church  and  society, 
and  for  preserving  that  entire  harmony  of  feeling  which  now 
exists  between  our  respected  Pastor  and  ourselves,  a  successor 
in  the  pastoral  office,  over  this  church  and  society,  in  case  of  a 
vacancy,  is  preferable  to  any  sort  of  colleague ;  and  yet  that, 
while  we  would  remove  thus  from  the  Pastor  all  weight  of 
responsibility  for  our  future  welfare,  we  shall  desire  and  hope 
to  be  aided,  in  our  new  relations,  l)y  liis  kind  counsel  and  judg- 
ment. 

Third,  That,  in  consideration  of  our  Pastor's  long-continued 
and  faithful  labors  among  us,  and  his  eminently  useful  ministry, 
not  only  in  immediate  connection  with  ourselves,  but  also  in 
wider  relations,  as  well  to  the  community  in  which  we  live  as  to 
our  State  and  country,  and  with  a  view  to  the  expression  of  our 
affectionate  respect,  and  of  our  solicitude  that  his  later  years 
should  not  be  burthened  with  the  necessity  of  work  for  which 
he  may  feel  his  strength  inadequate,  a  committee  be  appointed 
to  devise  some  suitable  provision  for  our  Pastor's  remaining 
years  after  the  termination  of  his  ministry  among  us. 

Edward  E.  Salisbury,  Henry  Trowbridge, 

E.  C.  Scranton,  Eli  Whitney, 

H.  C.  Kingsley,  Willis  Bristol, 

Alexander  C.  Twining. 

New  Haveu.  January,  18C6. 

The  report  of  the  committee  was  accepted,  the  resolutions 
reported  by  them  were  taken  up  separately,  and  passed  as 
reported  by  the  committee,  with  the  exception  of  the  third, 
which  was  amended  by  inserting  after  the  word  "■  country  "  the 
words  ''  and  to  the  clmrcli  at  large,"  and  as  amended  was  passed. 


HIS    KKTIRKMENT.  41 

Tlie  cominittee  contemplated  by  tlic  third  resolution  was 
then  ap25<>inted,  consisting  of  Edward  E.  Salis])ury,  E.  C. 
Scranton,  II.  C.  Kingsley,  Henry  Trowbridge,  Eli  Whitney, 
Willis  Bristol  and  Alexander  (\  Twining,  who  were  instructed 
to  furuisli  to  the  Pastor  a  copy  of  the  resolutions. 

Attest:  EDWARD  I.  SANEOIU), 

Soclety''ii  Clerk. 


ADJOURNED    MEETING. 

The  society  met  pursuant  to  adjourmiieiit,  at   the   meeting- 
house of  the  society,  on  Monday,  March  5th,  IcSfHi,  at  7^  P.  M. 
,     IS^athaniel  A.  Bacon,  moderator. 

The  committee  appointed  at  the  last  meeting  to  devise  some 
suitable  provision  for  the  Pastor,  after  the  termination  of  his 
ministry,  made  report  that  having  given  the  sul)ject  due  con- 
sideration, they  reconnnended  the  passage  of  the  following  reso- 
lutions : 

First,  That  in  the  event  of  Rev.  Dr.  Bacon's  resignation  of 
the  pastoral  office  over  the  First  Church  and  Society  in  New 
Haven,  agreeably  to  the  wish  for  relief  from  all  pastoral  duties 
and  responsibilities  expressed  by  him  in  his  connnunication  to 
the  church  and  society  of  last  March,  and  to  the  action  of  this 
society  thereupon,  at  an  adjourned  meeting  held  on  the  5th  day 
of  February,  1866,  this  society  will  continue  to  pay  to  him 
after  said  resignation  shall  have  been  tendered  and  accepted, 
the  sum  of  one  tliousand  dollars,  annually,  so  long  as  he  shall 
live,  from  its  accruing  income. 

Second,  That  this  society  will  proceed  to  raise  by  subscrip- 
tion a  fund  of  ten  tliousand  dollars  at  least,  as  a  further  j^ro- 
vision  for  Kev.  Dr.  Bacon,  in  the  event  of  his  resignation  of 
the  pastoral  office,  and  the  acceptance  thereof  by  the  church 
and  society,  the  income  of  said  fund  to  be  paid  to  him,  annu- 
ally, during  his  life,  after  such  resignation  and  acceptance,  and 
the  principal  to  be  distril;)uted,  at  his  death,  among  mend)ers  of 
his  family  surviving  him,  in  the  manner  and  pi'oportions  which 
may  be  specified  in  his  last  will  and  testament ;  and  that  the  said 
fund,  so  long  as  it  shall  remain  undistributed  as  aforesaid,  shall 
be  under  the  care  o^  the  managers  of  the  ministerial  fund  of 


42  LEONARD    BACON. 

tliis  society,  for  the  time  being,  and  that,  in  the  opinion  of  this 
society,  the  pastoral  office  should  not  be  resigned  by  Rev.  Dr. 
Bacon  nntil  after  said  fund  shall  have  been  raised. 

Third,  That  a  committee  be  appointed  to  receive  subscrip- 
tions to  the  fund  proposed  in  the  next  preceding  resolution. 

The  report  of  the  committee  was  accepted  and  the  resolutions 
passed. 

The  following  persons  were  then  appointed  the  committee 
contemplated  by  the  third  of  said  resolutions,  viz  : 

Alexander  C.  Twining,        Eli  Whitney, 
Henry  Trowbridge,  Chester  S.  Lyman. 

There  being  no  further  business,  the  meeting  then  adjourned 
without  day. 

Attest:  EDWARD  I.  SANFORD, 

Society's  Clerli. 


SPECIAL    MEETING. 

At  a  special  meeting  of  the  First  Ecclesiastical  Society  in 
New  Haven,  held  pursuant  to  legal  notice  at  their  new  chapel, 
on  Monday,  August  20th,  1866,  at  T^  o'clock  P.  M. 

Nathaniel  A.  Bacon  was  appointed  moderator. 

Charles  B.  Whittlesey  was  appointed  clerk  ^r6>  tern. 

The  call  for  the  meeting  was  then  read  as  follows : 

A  special  meeting  of  the  First  Ecclesiastical  Society  in  New 
Haven  will  be  held  at  their  new  chapel,  on  Monday,  August 
20th,  at  7|-  o'clock  p.  m.,  to  hear  the  report  of  the  connnittee 
appointed  at  the  last  regular  meeting  of  the  society ;  also  to 
consider  a  communication  from  the  Pastor  to  the  society,  and  to 
take  action  thereon,  and  to  do  any  other  business  proper  to  be 
done  at  said  meeting. 

New  Haven,  August  14th,  18G6. 

The  committee  appointed  at  the  last  meeting  then  made 
report  as  follows : 

The  connnittee  appointed  by  the  First  Ecclesiastical  Society 
of  New  Haven,  at  their  adjourned  meeting  on  the  5th  day  of 
March  last,  "to  receive  subscriptions  to  the  fund  proposed,"  as 
a  further  provision  for  Rev.  Dr.  Bacon,  respectfully  report : 


TTTS    KETIREMENT.  -^l] 

That  tlie  connnittee  prepared  and  extensively  circulated  a 
printed  circular  for  the  niend)ers  and  congrcii^ation  of  the  First 
Ecclesiastical  Society  of  Xcnv  Haven  relatiny;  the  action  of  the 
society  at  its  several  nieetini>s,  and  especially  the  resoluti(»ns,  in 
full,  at  the  last  named  nieetino* ;  also  a  few  remarkable  points 
of  the  society's  history  under  the  pastorship  of  Kev.  Dr.  P)acon  ; 
a  copy  of  this  circular  (dated  April  ITth,  ISOO)  is  herewith 
reported.  lietween  that  date  and  the  month  of  July  subscrip- 
tions were  raised  to  the  amount  of  ten  thousand  and  eightv- 
tliree  dollars,  "  due  and  payable  to  the  society,  in  manner  as 
subscribed,  whenever  the  said  Pastor  (Eev.  Dr.  Bacon)  shall 
have  resigned  the  pastoral  office,  and  his  resignation  has  l)een 
accepted'''  by  the  society.  The  sul)scription  books,  with  the 
subscriptions  stamped  with  due  cancellation  in  the  name  of 
the  society,  is  herewith  re])orted.  Since  July  the  amount 
subscribed  has  been  raised  to  ten  thousand  one  hundred  and 
thirty-three  dollars,  and  there  is  a  prospect  of  further  increase. 

The  cash  expenses  of  the  connnittee  in  raising  the  subscrip- 
tion have  been  as  follows  : 

For  printed  circulars,  as  by  bill  presented,  $11.00 

For  subscription  books,        .             .             ,  .75 

For  envelojDes  and  stamps  by  mail,         .  2.50 

For  stamps  for  subscrij)tions,            :             .  2.50 


Amount,      ....  $16.75 

The  present  number  of  subscribers  is  fifty-one.  P'our  have 
subscribed  one  thousand  dollars  each ;  seven,  five  hundred 
dollars  each ;  three,  from  two  hundred  to  one  hundred  and 
fifty  each  ;  eleven,  one  hundred  each  ;  nine,  twenty -five  each  ; 
fifteen,  fifty  each ;  with  a  few  smaller  sums  from  different 
individuals. 

New  Haven,  August  20th,  1866. 

By  order  of  the  committee, 

Alex.  C.  Twining,  Chairman. 


The  following  is  the  copy  of  the  printed  circular  referred  to 
in  the  foregoing  report  of  the  committee  : 


44  LEONARD    BACON. 


Circular,  for  the  Memhers  and  the  Congregation  of  the  First 
Ecclesiastical  Society  of  New  Haven. 

The  undersigned,  a  eonnnittee  of  the  First  Ecclesiastical 
Society  of  I^ew  Haven,  appointed  at  an  adjonmed  meeting  of 
that  society,  on  the  fifth  day  of  March,  1866,  to  carry  out  one 
essential  part  of  an  arrangement  concerning  the  prospective 
retirement  of  their  Pastor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bacon,  address  this 
circular  to  yourself,  with  others,  in  performing  the  duty  C(mi- 
initted  to  them. 

You  are  aware  that  this  ai-rangement  was  originated  by  a 
proposal  and  request  of  the  Pastor  himself,  made  from  the 
pulpit  in  March  of  tlie  year  1865.  He,  at  that  time,  having 
fuimied  a  ministry  of  forty  years  in  this  church,  made  known 
his  desire  to  be  relieved  while  his  vigor  for  labor  was  yet 
unimpaired.  No  innnediate  action,  however,  was  urged  by 
him,  and  the  society,  on  its  part,  not  knowing  any  other  reason 
for  a  change  than  was  created  by  their  Pastor's  own  request, 
the  subject  was  not  acted  on  till  the  annual  meeting  near  the 
beginning  of  the  present  year,  at  which  time  a  decent  regard  to 
the  Pastor's  feelings  required  that  his  request  should  be  con- 
sidered. The  result,  it  is  well  known,  was  that  the  society 
acceded  to  the  reasonableness  of  the  request,  met  the  same  by  a 
brief  expression  of  their  own  views  respecting  the  manner  of 
the  change  when  it  should  come,  and  appointed  a  committee  of 
seven  to  consider  and  report  upon  the  best  arrangement  for 
carrying  out  the  purpose  thus  nmtually  agreed  upon. 

This  action  of  the  society,  when  thereupon  eonnnunicated  to 
Dr.  Bacon,  was  found  to  be  satisfactory  to  his  feelings  and 
accordant  with  his  views.  On  the  iifth  day  of  March  last  the 
committee  made  their  report  to  the  society  at  its  adjourned 
meeting.  The  society  accepted  the  report,  and  adopted  in  full 
the  following  resolutions : 

Resolved — First,  That  in  the  event  of  Di'.  Bacon's  resigna- 
tion of  the  pastoral  office  over  the  First  (^liurcli  and  Society  in 
New  Haven,  agreeably  to  the  wish  for  relief  from  all  pastoral 
duties  and  responsibilities  expressed  by  him  in  his  communica- 
tion to  the  church  and  society  of  last  March,  and  to  the  action 
of  this  society  thereupon  at  an  adjourned  meeting  held  on  the 


IMS    KKTIHKMKXT.  4;") 

tiftli  (lay  of  l-V'hniarv,  ISCid,  tliis  Sucii'ty  will  (•oiitimie  to  ])av 
to  liiiii.  aftiT  said  ivsijrnatioii  shall  liavr  Irhmi  tendered  and 
ac'c*ej)tt'd,  the  sum  of  one  tliousaiid  dollai's,  aninially.  so  loiii;-  as 
he  shall  live,  from  its  aeeruinn'  iiieomi'. 

Second,  That  the  society  will  })rocet'(l  to  raise  hy  suhscription 
a  fund  of  ten  thousand  dollars,  at  least,  as  a  further  })rovision 
for  Rev.  Dr.  IJaeon,  in  the  event  of  his  resignation  of  the  pas- 
toral ofHee,  and  the  acceptance  th(jreof  hy  the  (•hnivh  and  soci- 
ety, the  income  of  said  fund  to  he  paid  to  him  annually,  durino; 
his  life,  after  such  resionation  and  acceptance,  and  the  pi-incipal 
to  he  distributed  at  his  death  among  mend)ers  of  his  family 
•surviving  him,  in  the  manner  and  projjortions  which  may  be 
specilied  in  his  last  will  and  testament ;  and  that  the  said  fund, 
so  long  as  it  shall  remain  undistributed  as  aforesaid,  shall  be 
under  the  care  of  the  managers  of  the  ministerial  fund  of  this 
society  for  the  time  being;  and  that,  in  the  opinion  of  this 
society,  the  pastoral  office  should  not  be  resigned  by  Ilev.  IJr. 
Bacon  until  after  said  fund  shall  have  been  raised. 

Third,  That  a  committee  be  appointed  to  receive  subscrip- 
tions to  the  fund  proposed,  in  the  next  preceding  resolution. 

Finally,  The  undersigned  were  appointed  a  committee  to 
obtain  the  subscription  C(»ntemplated  in  the  above  second  reso- 
lution of  the  society;  which  measure,  it  will  be  seen,  is  a  neces- 
sary pre-requisite  to  the  validity  and  effect  of  the  arrangements. 
It  is  ascertained  that  the  arrangement  itself  is  satisfactory  to 
the  Pastor. 

Therefore,  fellow  members  of  the  society  and  congregation, 
we  ask  of  you  to  contribute  of  your  liberality  and  means  to  this 
expression  of  confidence  and  affection  towards  our  long  tried 
and  faithful  Pastor.  Forty  years — and  now  full  forty-one  years 
of  such  work  as  he  has  performed  for  our  society,  is  a  great  and 
\vorthy  record.  lie  came  to  us,  like  his  two  immediate  prede- 
cessors, a  young  man  wdio  had  never  borne  a  like  burden.  He 
found  the  w^ork,  as  they  had  found  it,  all  that  he  could  do. 
But  lie  carried  it  through,  or  rather  he  was,  by  Divine  help, 
carried  through  it.  The  mutual  feelings  of  the  committee,  of 
the  society,  and  of  the  church  would  hardly  l)e  satisfied  should 
we  fail  to  recur,  although  in  the  briefest  possible  mannei',  to 
certain  prominent  particulars  of  our  society's  history  throuo:h 
5 


46  LEONARD   BACON. 

the  intervening  period  up  to  tlie  present  time.  The  Center 
C'hurcli,  in  that  period,  besides  sustaining  its  own  membership 
and  ministry,  has  contributed  largely  to  the  formation  of  five 
other  churches  in  ]S'ew  Haven,  and  two  in  the  suburbs.  More 
than  haK  the  original  members  of  the  Third  Church  in  1826, 
were  from  this  church.  The  colored  members  of  what  is  now 
the  Temple  Street  Church  were,  with  few  exception's,  dismissed 
from  this  to  form  that  church  in  1829.  The  College  Street 
Church  in  1831,  was  originated  by  a  few  young  men,  most  of 
whom  went  out  from  the  First  Church.  The  Chapel  Street 
Church,  at  its  beginning  in  1838,  received  a  large  portion  of 
its  membership  from  the  same.  The  Davenport  Church  of 
1862,  was  a  missionary  enterprise  sustained  by  this  church  prin- 
cipally. To  these  may  be  added  the  Fair  Haven  Church,  in 
1830,  and  the  Westville  Church  in  1832,  a  large  fraction  of 
whose  membership,  in  both  instances,  was  received  from  this 
church ;  and  in  the  latter,  a  majority  of  its  members  it  is 
believed.  More  than  thirty  members  of  this  church,  since 
1825,  have  become  ministers  of  the  gospel.  Within  ourselves 
we  find  that  of  the  original  membership  of  about  four  hundred 
and  fifty,  only  about  forty  remain  in  this  church,  and  al)Out 
half  as  many  besides  with  other  churches.  During  the  whole 
forty-one  years,  twelve  hundred  and  seventy-five  persons  have 
been  received  to  communion,  of  whom  six  hundred  and  nine 
were  admitted  on  profession  of  their  faith,  about  sixty  more 
than  the  whole  numliei',  forty-one  years  ago. 

The  amount  of  work  which  has  been  done  outside  for  the 
church  at  large,  and  for  the  country,  is  incalculal)le,  and  no 
small  part  of  it  has  been  by  and  through  the  Pastor.  Of  his 
sons  whom  death  has  spared,  we  need  not  tell  the  number  he 
has  supplied  to  the  sacred  ministry,  and  to  the  defense  of  the 
country.  Neither  need  we  say  that,  in  what  remains  of  his 
work,  for  the  church  universal,  whate^'er  it  shall  l)e  that  em- 
ploys the  yet  unabated  vigor  of  his  intellect  and  heart,  the 
First  Church  and  society  will  have  and  will  feel  a  property  and 
possession.  The  committee  desire  to  present  it  as  the  point  of 
immediate  interest  and  importance,  that  the  Pastor — the  Rev. 
Dr.  Bacon — should  have  full  opportunity  for  this  work,  and 
not  l)e  hindered  by  want  or  by  anxieties  respecting  liis  ])ecun- 


HIS    UKTrKEMKXT.  47 

iarv  means.  It  will  be  seen  that  the  least  snni  which,  in  the 
society's  judgment  will  meet  this  necessity,  is  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars, contributed  and  appropriated  in  the  manner  described 
above.  We  only  add,  that  circumstances,  in  our  opinion, 
justify  and  make  advisable  a  yet  larger  subscription,  and  that, 
notwithstanding  the  obvious  fact,  that  a  principal  part  of  the 
whole  must  be  raised  in  large  subscriptions,  we  think  it  appro- 
priate and  important  that  all  should  participate  in  the  act.  in 
such  sums  as  their  means  allow. 

New  Haven,  Connecticut,  April  17.  1866. 

Alexander  C.  Twining, 
Henry  Trowbridge, 
Eli  Whitney, 
C.  S.  Lyman. 

On  motion  the  report  of  the  connnittee  M^as  accepted. 


The  following  communication  from  the  pastor  was  received 
and  read : 

To  the  First  Ecclesiastical  Society  in  New  Haven: 

Brethren  and  Friends — The  unexpected  but  character- 
istic liberality  with  which  you  have  met  my  request  to  be  re- 
lieved, either  partly  or  entirely  from  the  labors  of  the  pastoral 
office,  before  increasing  infirmity  shall  make  me  unwilling  to 
be  so  relieved,  requires  the  most  grateful  acknowledgment  on 
my  part.  Your  kindness  permits  me  to  escape  from  the  pain- 
ful dread  of  seeing  the  prosperity  of  this  ancient  society 
declining,  in  the  decline  wliicli  must  soon  come  upon  me. 

I  might  find  many  reasons  for  postponing  my  resignation  of 
the  responsibilities  which  I  have  sustained  so  long,  but  I  am 
convinced  that  your  interests  as  a  religious  society  will  be  pro- 
moted by  the  iiitrttduction  of  another  Pastor  in  my  place  with- 
out any  further  delay.  I  see  no  probability  that  any  measures 
will  be  taken  in  that  direction  wliile  I  continue  to  act  as  your 
Pastor. 


48  LEONARD   BACON. 

At  the  same  time,  I  find  myself  invited  to  a  work  which  T 
neither  expected  or  desired,  l)ut  in  which,  being  associated  witli 
colleagues  in  the  prime  and  vigor  of  life,  I  may  hope  to  serve 
for  a  while;  but  in  which,  my  experience  as  a  minister  of  the 
gospel  may  be  made  useful  to  students  for  the  ministry. 

Therefore,  in  conformity  with  your  votes  at  your  adjourned 
meeting  held  on  the  5th  of  February,  1866,  I  hereby  resign  the 
pastoral  office  in  the  First  Church  and  Society  in  New  Haven, 
from  and  after  the  second  Sabbath  in  September  next,  which 
will  complete  forty-one  years  and  a  half  since  my  installation. 
I  accept  with  hearty  gratitude  the  provision  you  have  made  for 
me,  according  to  your  votes  passed  on  the  5th  day  of  March 
last. 

"  Commending  you  to  God  and  to  the  word  of  His  grace, 
which  is  able  to  build  you  up,  and  to  give  you  an  inheritance 
among  all  them  which  are  sanctified,"  I  am,  with  grateful  affec- 
tion, and  witli  unceasing  prayer  for  you  all,  your  friend  and 
servant  in  Christ,  LEONAKD  BACON. 

New  Haven,  Connecticut,  August,  1866. 

On  motion,  the  resignation  was  unanimously  accepted,  and 
the  foregoing  communication  ordered  to  be  placed  on  file, 

Yoted,  That  this  society  ratify  the  proceedings  of  the  com- 
mittee in  obtaining  the  subscription  for  the  benefit  of  Dr. 
Bacon,  and  accept  said  subscription,  and  will  appropriate  the 
same  according  to  the  terms  of  subscription. 

Yoted,  That  the  subscription-book  be  lodged  with  the 
archives  of  the  society ;  also,  that  the  names  of  the  subscril)ers, 
with  the  circular  accompanying  the  same,  be  entered  upon  the 
records  of  the  society. 

Voted,  That  a  collector  be  appointed  to  receive  the  sub- 
scriptions obtained  and  to  be  obtained,  to  the  fund  for  Tlev.  Dr. 
Bacon,  and  hand  over  the  same  when  collected,  to  the  mana- 
gers of  the  ministerial  fund. 

Alexander  C.  Twining  was  appointed  collector,  pursuant  to 
the  foregoing  vote. 

On  motion,  Alexander  C.  Twining  was  appointed  a  com- 
mittee to  communicate  to  Dr.  Bacon  the  action  of  the  society 
accepting  his  resignaticjn.     The  meeting  then  adjourned. 


HTS    RETIREMENT.  49 

The  forejroine:  record    is  made  from   the  mimites  of   0.  B. 
Wliittlesey,  clerk  pro  tem. 

Attest,  EDWARD   I.  SANFORD,  Clerk. 


On  Suiidav.  Aui>-nst  2<),  ISHH,  the  cliurch  held  a  meetiiia",  the 
I'econl  of  which  is  as  follows: 

At  an  assembly  of  the  First  (^hurch  in  New  Haven, 
appointed  by  the  Senior  Deacon,  with  the  advice  of  a  majority 
of  the  deacons,  and  held  immediately  after  the  morning  service 
to-day,  a  communication  having  been  made  relating  to  and 
ex})laining  the  nnitnal  action  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Society  and 
their  Pastor,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Bacon,  concerning  the  pastorship,  it 
was — 

Resolved,  That  Deacon  Henry  White  and  Henry  Trow- 
bridge are  herel)y  apiDointed  on  the  part  of  this  church  to  com- 
municate to  their  Pastor,  the  Bev.  Leonard  Bacon,  the  deep 
feeling  with  which  they  have  received  information  of  his  resig- 
nati(»n  of  the  pastoral  office;  also  the  acquiescence  of  this 
church  in  the  transactions  between  the.  Pastor  and  the  Ecclesi- 
astical Society,  and  in  the  issue  of  the  same,  although  not  of 
our  seeking  or  desiring ;  and  our  request  that  after  the  pastoral 
office  shall  have  become  vacant,  as  now  appointed,  the  Pastor 
mutually  with  ourselves  will  continue  in  prayer  that  the  Head 
of  the  Church  will  in  due  time  provide  f(jr  this  cliurch  an  able 
and  faithful  minister  of  his  own  choosing. 

The  al)ove  was  approved  and  passed  by  vote  without  dissent. 
Attest,  L.  J.  SANFOBD,  Clerk. 


At  the  annual  meeting  of  the  society  held  December  28, 
1874,  the  following  vote  was  unanimously  passed  : 

Voted,  That  we  tender  the  thanks  of  this  society  to  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Leonard  Bacon  for  his  continued  kindness  and  atten- 
tion to  the  members  of  the  First  (Jhurch  and  congregation,  and 
tender  to  him  the  sum  of  five  hundred  dollars,  and  beg  him  to 
accept  the  same  as  a  feeble  testimonial  of  our  love  and  respect. 

The  meeting  then  adjourned  sine  die. 

Attest,  ROGER  S.  WHITE,  Society's  Clerk. 


50  LEONARD   BACON. 

The  following  letter  was  received  from  tlie  Rev.  Dr.  Leon- 
ard Bacon  in  response  to  the  vote  of  the  society  passed  at  the 
annual  meeting  held  Deceml)er  28,  1874: 

To  the  First  Ecclesiastical  Society  of  New  Hafnen  : 

My  Beloved  Friends — Your  vote  of  December  28,  1874, 
has  been  communicated  to  me,  and  with  it  vour  generous  and 
most  unexpected  gift.  For  such  a  testimonial  of  love  and 
respect  from  those  whom  it  has  been  my  happiness  to  serve  in 
the  gospel,  I  would  render  thanks  not  to  them  only  but  to  (rod 
who  has  given  me  favor  in  their  siglit  far  beyond  my  deserving. 

While  I  am  permitted  to  remain  among  you  and  have  health 
and  strength  for  any  work,  I  trust  that  all  members  of  the  con- 
gregation— those  to  whom  I  am  comparatively  a  stranger,  as 
well  as  those  with  whom  I  was  connected  in  the  days  of  my 
more  active  ministry — will  remember  that  I  count  it  my  priv- 
ileo-e  to  lie  regarded  as  their  servant  for  ( 'hrist's  sake,  and  to  be 
called  upon,  especially  in  the  absence  of  another  Pastor,  to  per- 
form every  pastoral  service  not  inconsistent  with  my  actual 
engagements  in  the  Divinity  College. 

The  provision  which  you  made  for  the  relief  and  comfort  of 
my  old  age,  when  you  consented  to  my  retirement  from  the 
charge  of  the  parish,  binds  me  to  serve  you  as  I  may  have 
opportunity  ;  and  this  fresh  testimony  of  kindness  to  your  old 
Pastor  renews  and  increases  the  obligation. 

With  prayer  for  (lod's  l)lessing  upon  all  your  families  and 
upon  every  soul  among  vou,  I  am  gratefully  yours, 

LEONAPD  BACON. 

New  Haven.  Januarv  16,  1875. 


MTKAl.    TABLET. 


The  annual  meeting  of  tlie  First  Ecclesiastical  S(»ciety  in 
New  Haven  was  lield  pursuant  to  legal  notice  at  their  cha])el 
on  A\^ednes(hiy,  December  28,  1881,  at  7^  o'clock  P.  M. 

Ml.  Charles  Thompson  was  chosen  mo(lerat<»r. 

In  conse(pience  of  the  death  of    Rev.    Dr.    IJacon,    which 

occurred    on    Saturday  morning,  the   24th    inst.,   it   was,    on 

motion  of  Mr.  Thomas  R.   Trowbridge,  voted  to  adjourn  for 

one  week  to  Wednesday,  January  4,  1882,  at  7^  o'clock  v.  M. 

Attest,  ROGER  S.  WHITE, 

Society^s  Clerk. 


At  the  adjourned  meeting  the  following  votes  were  passed  : 

Voted,  That  a  mural  tablet,  either  of  brass  or  marble,  be 
placed  in  the  audience-room  of  (Center  Church  which  will  be  to 
ourselves,  our  children,  and  our  children's  children  a  constant 
reminder  of  the  noble  life,  untiring  zeal,  and  faithful  nunistra- 
tion  of  our  late  revered  Pastor,  Rev.  Dr.  Leonard  Bacon. 

Voted,  That  a  conmiittee  of  three  be  appointed  to  arrange 
for  the  tal)let,  and  also  be  authorized  to  confer  with  the  family 
of  the  late  Pastor  in  reference  to  the  inscription  which  will  l)e 
placed  upon  it. 

Mr.  Thomas  R.  Trowbridge,  Mr.  Robert  B.  Bradley,  and 
Mr.  John  C.  Ritter  were  then  chosen  the  committee  in  accord- 
ance with  the  above  vote. 


SERMON 

Preached  by  Leonard  Bacon,  March  18,  1825. 


II.  Corinthians,  ii.  16. — Who  is  sufficiext  for  these  thi.vgs? 

Tc)-dav,  my  beloved  friends,  1  am  permitted,  in  the  provi- 
dence of  (xod,  to  connnenee  my  public  services  among  you,  as 
the  minister  of  »Jesus  Christ,  and  your  Pastor.  I  am  entering 
into  the  labors  of  a  long  succession  of  able  and  faithful  minis- 
ters who  have  ad(_)rned  your  Zion  from  the  days  of  the  Pil- 
grims until  now.  I  am  called  to  preside  over  a  church  which 
God  has  ever  delighted  to  bless  with  the  outpourings  of  his 
spirit.  I  am  called  to  labor  for  the  salvation  of  a  people  who 
have  long  been  thoroughly  instructed  in  the  doctrines  of  the 
gospel,  and  who  have  often  testihed  that  they  value  and  revere 
the  institutions  of  religion.  T  am  called  to  labor  for  the  cause 
of  our  Redeemer,  in  a  city,  where  my  efforts  should  be  con- 
nected in  a  special  degree  with  the  progress  of  that  cause 
throughout  our  wude  and  gntwing  country,  and  throughout  the 
world.  I  look  around  me  on  the  duties  which  I  must  perform 
and  the  responsibilities  which  I  must  sustain.  I  look  within 
on  the  unworthiness  which  I  feel  and  the  infirmities  under 
which  I  must  struggle.  I  look  forward  to  the  trt)ubles  that 
must  perplex  my  efforts  and  the  trials  that  must  assail  my 
spirit.     AYho  is  sutficient  for  these  things '{ 

On  any  ordinary  occasion,  the  words  of  my  text  might  lead 
me  to  discuss,  in  abstract  and  general  terms,  the  responsibilities, 
and  the  trials  and   the  insufficicTicv  of  the  C^hristian  ministrv. 


54  LEONARD    BACON. 

But  if  I  should  pursue  such  a  course  on  the  present  occasion,  I 
should  do  injustice  to  my  own  feelings,  and  I  doubt  not  to 
yours.  I  trust  that  I  shall  receive  your  willing  attention  while 
I  speak  to  you  freely,  plainly,  and  without  reserve,  as  the  rela- 
tion into  which  we  have  entered  demands  ;  and  tell  you  what 
it  is  which  I  am  called  to  do  among  you,  what  I  am  who  am 
called  to  do  it,  and  what  it  is  which  may  be  expected  to  dis- 
courage me  in  doing  it.  In  other  words,  I  mean  to  be  specific 
and  personal  in  telling  you  of  what  will  l)e  the  duties,  the  weak- 
nesses, and  the  trials  of  him  whom  you  have  chosen,  and  whom 
God  in  his  providence  has  sent  among  you  to  be  your  minister. 

In  looking  at  the  duties  which  I  am  to  perform  among  you 
the  first  topic  which  demands  our  attention  is  the  public  preach- 
ing of  the  gospel.  God — said  the  Apostle  to  the  Corinthians 
— "  hath  given  to  us  the  ministry  of  reconciliation ;  to  wit :  that 
God  was  in  Christ  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself,  not  im- 
puting their  trespasses  unto  them.  Now  then  we  are  ambassa- 
dors for  Christ,  as  though  God  did  beseech  you  by  us :  we  pray 
you  in  Christ's  stead  be  ye  reconciled  to  God.  For  he  hath 
made  him  to  be  sin  for  us,  who  knew  no  sin,  that  we  might  be 
made  the  righteousness  of  God  in  him."  Let  these  words  be 
understood  in  all  tliut  they  say  and  in  all  that  they  imply,  and 
you  will  understand  what  is  the  substance  of  the  gospel  which 
I  am  to  preach  among  you — what  is  the  importance  and  respon- 
sibility of  my  employment  as  a  preacher — what  must  be  the 
purpose  of  my  preacliing — and  what  is  the  great  motive  which 
I  must  urge  upon  you  for  the  attainment  of  this  purpose. 

The  substance  of  the  gospel  which  is  connnitted  to  me  is  the 
great  doctrine  of  reconciliation ;  to  wit :  God  in  Christ  recon 
ciling  the  world  unto  himself.  In  the  inculcation  of  this  doc- 
trine, it  will  be  my  duty  to  unfold  before  you  the  character  of 
God  who  created  all  worlds  by  his  power,  who  governs  all  intelli- 
gent beings  by  his  law,  who  directs  all  events  by  his  providence. 
I  must  tell  you  of  his  power,  his  presence,  his  wisdom,  his  love, 
his  sovereignty  and  his  justice.  I  must  lead  you  to  behold  him 
in  the  infinite  excellence  and  the  incomprehensible  glory  of  his 
being  that  you  may  know  who  it  is  that  is  reconciling  the  world 
unto  himself.  I  must  array  l)efore  you  the  character  of  the 
■world — showing  you  how  fearfully  it  is  at  variance  with  God's 


IXAICIKAL    SKiniON.  56 

law  and  with  (Tud\s  cliaractei'.  I  iimst  tell  yoii  of  your  own 
guilt — your  own  entire  depravity,  that  yon  may  know  who  they 
are  whom  (rod  is  reconciling  unto  hiinself.  I  must  tell  you  of 
Olu'ist  in  the  infinite  dignity  of  liis  person — (lod  manifest  in 
the  Hesh  ; — in  the  endearing  tenderness  of  his  relation  to  us — 
the  high  priest  who  can  l)e  touchecl  with  the  feeling  of  our  in- 
firmities;— and  in  the  mysterious  and  touching  suhliniitv  of  liis 
great  work  when  he  offered  u])  himself  for  tlie  sins  of  the  world 
— a  lamh  without  s])ot  or  hiemish — that  you  may  know  in 
wliom  (rod  is  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself.  I  must  tell 
you  of  that  Holy  Spirit  which  (iod,  in  tlie  exercise  of  his  sov- 
ereignty, gives  freely  to  the  unworthy  and  rebellious,  not  impu- 
ting their  trespasses  unto  them,  hut  dealing  with  them  as 
though  they  were  worthy,  sanctifying  their  affections  hy  his 
grace,  and  bringing  them  at  last  to  heaven: — that  you  may 
know  how  it  is  that  God  in  Christ  is  reconciling  the  world  unto 
himself. 

"Now  then  we  are  ambassadors  for  Christ,  as  though  (-rod  did 
beseech  you  by  us."  When  I  stand  before  you  in  this  holy 
place,  I  stand  in  the  exercise  of  a  high  and  holy  office.  1  stand 
before  you  as  the  and)assador  of  Christ  to  plead  with  you  in  his 
name.  My  words  should  be  the  expression  of  his  Mall;  and  if 
so,  they  are  as  though  God  did  beseech  you  by  me.  When  I 
stand  in  this  pulpit,  I  am  to  speak  in  the  name  of  the  Lord ; 
and  w^hen  I  come  here  to  do  my  Master's  business,  I  am  not  to 
seek  your  approbation,  or  to  tremble  at  the  thought  of  your 
displeasure,  I  am  to  have  l)efore  my  thought  no  approbation  but 
his,  no  fear  but  the  fear  of  his  tribunal,  no  interests  but  the  in- 
terests of  his  kingdom  and  of  the  souls  for  whom  he  died.  I 
am  to  think  of  nothing  but  my  Lord  and  the  errand  on  wdiich 
he  has  sent  me. 

And  my  errand  is  this.  "  I  beseech  you  in  Christ's  stead,  he 
ye  reconciled  unto  God."  The  purpose  of  my  preaching  here 
nuist  be  nothing  else  than  to  make  you  completely  reconciled  to 
the  God  with  whom  you  are  at  variance.  I  must  persuade  you 
to  forsake  your  sins,  to  renounce  your  selfishness,  to  put  off  all 
sensual  and  worldly  affections,  and  to  live  not  for  yourselves, 
but  for  God,  who  demands  of  all  his  creatures  the  heart  unpol- 
luted— the  affections  undivided.     All  this  is  implied  in  a  com- 


56  LEONARD    BACON. 

plete  reconciliation  to  him,  and  all  this  must  be  included  in  my 
purpose.  I  must  not  only  plead  with  the  impenitent  to  brine; 
them  to  repentance  ;  but  I  must  also  stimulate  and  lead  on  the 
followers  of  Jesus  to  a  higher  and  still  higher  elevation  of  Chris- 
tian character,  to  a  purer  holiness  and  a  more  entire  devotedness. 
No,  my  brethren,  I  must  ne^'er  give  over  l)eseeehing  you  in 
Christ's  stead  l)e  ye  reconciled  to  Ct(x1,  till  you  have  all  become 
pure  in  heart,  perfect  in  example,  unwearied  in  obedience,  and 
zealous  in  enterprise  like  the  saints  in  heaven,  or  like  the  spirits 
that  minister  l)efore  the  throne. 

And  this  is  the  grand  motive  which  I  am  to  urge  on  your 
attention  for  the  attainment  of  this  purpose.  God  hath  made 
him  who  knew  no  sin  to  l)e  a  sin  offering  for  us,  that  we  might 
l)e  righteous  in  the  sight  of  God  through  him.  I  am  to  beseech 
you  by  the  mercies  of  God — by  his  love  in  Christ — by  the  ex- 
hibition which  he  has  made  of  his  character  and  his  authority 
in  that  great  sacrifice  for  sin.  All  my  preaching  must  be  de- 
signed to  bring  you  to  Christ.  It  must  l)egin  and  end  with 
Christ.     "  Christ,  none  l)ut  Christ." 

But  the  public  preaching  of  the  word  will  not  be  my  only 
duty  as  your  minister.  It  must  indeed  be  regarded  as  my  great 
business,  an.d  the  work  of  preparation  for  my  public  efforts 
must  nudnly  occupy  my  studies  and  my  cares.  This  you  will 
above  all  things  require  of  your  minister  ;  and  this  my  duty  to 
my  Master  demands.  But  at  the  same  time,  your  feelings  and 
mine,  and  the  business  of  my  office  deuiand  that  I  should  culti- 
vate a  personal  friendship  with  you  all — that  I  should  visit  you 
from  house  to  house — that  I  should  be  known  in  all  your  fami- 
lies— that  I  should  l)ecome  acquainted,  so  far  as  may  be",  with 
all  your  characters  and  circumstances  and  wants,  and  thus  be 
able  to  adapt  my  instructions  and  entreaties,  my  warnings  and 
reproofs,  my  counsels  and  my  prayers,  to  each  individual  among 
you.  This  duty  of  pastoral  intercourse,  though  it  may  be  less 
important  than  some  other  official  duties,  and  though  its'  de- 
mands on  my  attention  may  be  less  imperious,  is  not  to  me  on 
that  account  tbe  less  oppressive  in  its  responsibility,  or  the  less 
difficult  in  its  performance,  I  must  converse  with  all,  and  excite 
the  interest  and  gain  the  attention  of  all — the  old,  bowed  down 
with  infirinity  and  hea\y  with  years — the  middle-aged, engrossed 


IX.Vrci   KAL    SKimnN.  5  < 

with  hnsiiK'ss  and  pfi-])le\t'(l  with  caivs — the  youth,  exultini;; 
ill  streuiitli  and  Imoyaut  with  i'xpL'ctati(tn — tlie  cliiUl,  artk'ss  in 
its  ignorance  and  thoughtless  in  its  exuheraiice  of  life.  I  must 
adapt  myself  to  every  variety  of  moral  charactei".  The  ohjector 
must  be  met  wisely,  and  in  tlie  s])irit  of  meekness.  The  open 
transgressor  must  be  repr(»\  ed.  The  careless  must  be  addressed. 
The  trembling  sinner  must  be  led  to  him  who  is  the  sinner's 
friend,  and  as  the  sliad(»w  of  a  great  rock  in  a  weary  land. 
The  wandering  Christian  must  be  sought  out  and  l)rought  to 
the  fold  of  Christ.  The  doul)tiiig  Christian  must  l)e  instructed 
patiently  and  diligently  till  all  his  scruples  are  removed.  The 
selfish  Christian  must  be  excited  to  deeds  of  benevolence.  The 
indolent  Christian  must  be  roused.  The  acti\e  Christian  must 
be  urged  on  to  a  more  entire  devotedness,  I  must  meet  you 
too  in  every  variety  of  condition  as  well  as  in  every  diversity  of 
character; — in  prosperity  and  in  distress — in  health  and  in  sick- 
ness— in  the  day  of  bereavement  and  in  the  hour  of  death.  All 
this,  you  see,  retjuires  a  versatility  of  talent,  and  a  kindness  and 
patience  and  firmness  of  disposition,  which  God  has  given  only 
to  a  few.  And  therefore  I  say  that  this  duty  is  to  me  appall- 
ing in  prospect,  as  it  must  be  oppressive  in  its  performance. 

On  this  topic  I  must  be  permitted  to  add  a  few  words  of  cau- 
tion. People  who  love  their  minister  often  embarrass  him  and 
not  unfrequently  bring  him  into  circumstances  of  great  tempt- 
ation by  their  kindness.  They  wish  to  see  him  always  among 
them  not  only  as  their  pastor  but  as  one  of  themselves, — enter- 
ing into  all  their  projects,  sharing  in  all  their  pleasures,  and 
even,  it  may  be,  taking  a  part  in  their  amusements.  Now  the 
minister  who  does  this  neglects  his  duty,  and,  generally  if  not 
always,  loses  some  part  of  the  official  sanctity  of  his  character. 
His  duties  demand  all  his  time  and  soul,  and  his  public  character 
demands  that  his  hours  of  relaxation; — if  he  has  any — should  be 
his  own  and  should  be  spent  in  such  retirement  as  his  own  dis- 
cretion shall  choose.  I  ask  yon  therefore  to  look  on  me  as 
your  pastor,  and  never  to  forget  the  duties  of  my  pastoral 
relation.  In  that  relation  I  must  visit  you.  I  must  be  seen  in 
the  house  of  mourning — in  the  chamber  of  sickness — by  the 
bed  of  death  ; — but,  I  pray  you,  do  not  ask  to  see  me  in  the 
circle  of  gaity,  or  at  the  baiujuet  of  mirth,     I  am  }our  minister. 


58  LEONARD    BACON. 

and  if  yon  knew  yonr  minister  as  well  as  I  do,  yon  wonld  not 
seek  to  lead  liim  into  temptation. 

Another  important  part  of  my  dnty  as  yonr  minister  will  be, 
to  lead  in  the  discipline  and  all  the  proceedings  of  the  church. 
Eyery  minister  is  the  pastor  of  his  chnrch,  that  is,  he  is  placed 
oyer  it  as  a  shepherd,  for  supply,  for  guidance,  for  defence.  He 
is  its  bishop — that  is — he  is  commissioned  as  its  oyerseer,  for 
watchful  superintendence  and  constant  direction.  He  is  in 
some  important  sense  responsible  to  God  for  its  purity  and  pros- 
perity. But  at  present  there  is  neither  time  nor  occasion  for 
me  to  dwell  particularly  on  this  part  of  my  official  duty — for  1 
haye  many  other  things  to  speak  of,  and  I  ti'ust  that  the  simple 
mention  of  it  will  be  enough  to  bring  before  you  distinctly,  its 
perplexing  labors,  and  its  fearful  responsil)ility. 

The  duties  of  which  I  haye  now  spoken  are  such  as  a  minis- 
ter owes  directly  to  the  church  and  people  connnitted  to  his 
own  especial  charge.  But  if  I  do  what  you  expect  of  your  pas- 
tor, and  what  God  requires  of  his  ministers,  I  must  do  more 
than  this.  You  wtmld  not  wish  to  haye  a  minister  who  should 
be  unkno^yn  and  whose  influence  should  be  unfelt  beyond  the 
limits  of  this  congregation.  And  God  demands  of  me,  if  I  am 
to  stand  here  on  the  battlements  of  Zion,  that  I  be  ready — eyer 
ready  to  lift  up  my  voice  in  concert  with  my  fellow-watchmen 
far  and  near.  As  each  individual  church  is  an  integral  part  of 
that  great  comnnmity  the  kingdom  of  God  on  earth,  so  every 
pastor  has  duties  to  perform  not  onl}'  to  the  individual  church 
over  which  he  is  placed,  but  also  to  the  great  kingdom  of  God 
with  which  his  own  church  is  connected.  The  kingdom  of  God 
in  all  its  members,  is  one  ;  and  it  is  carrying  on  a  war  with  the 
kingdom  of  darkness — a  war  which  calls  for  strength,  for  fore- 
cast, for  conti-ivance,  for  unity  of  action — a  war  which  must 
have  no  truce  but  in  conquest,  no  conclusion  but  in  perfect  vic- 
tory. In  this  war  every  minister  of  Jesus  is  enlisted  as  a  sol- 
dier ;  and  to  the  general  interests  of  the  cause  he  owes  all  that 
he  can  do,  according  to  the  talents  which  God  has  given  him 
and  the  circumstances  in  which  God  has  placed  hihi.  This 
warfare  is  continued  from  generation  to  generation,  and  in  our 
day  the  battle  waxes  fierce,  and  the  trumpet  call  is  loud  and 
shrill  and  of  no  uncertain  sound.     The  ai-mies  of  Immamiel  are 


IN'AUGURAL    SKKMOX,  59 

gatlierinij  force;  and  their  i2:reat  captain  is  leading'  tlieni  on, 
from  con(iiierini;-  and  to  coiKjner.  This  warfaiv  is  cai'ried  on 
through  the  worUl,  wherever  the  banner  of  the  gospel  has  heen 
spread  ont  on  the  winds  (»f  heaven.  And  in  oni-  connti'v  all 
the  circumstances  of  tlie  conflict  are  sn(ili  as  hold  forth  at  once 
the  signal  for  effort  and  the  promise  of  success.  What  these 
circumstances  ai-e  I  need  not  attempt  to  say,  for  witliout  going 
into  detail  we  can  all  easily  see  enough  to  warrant  the  eonchi- 
sion,  that  in  sucli  an  age  and  in  such  a  ccmntry  as  tliis,  every 
minister  has  much  to  do  for  the  prosperity  and  the  progress  of 
the  church  universal — for  the  triumph  of  religion  at  home  and 
the  extension  of  the  gospel  thi'ough  the  world.  And  what  a 
weight  of  resp(msil)ility  does  this  reflection  l)ring  down  on  me. 
It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  a  minister.  But  to  l>e  a  minister  in  the 
nineteenth  centuiy — to  be  a  minister  in  a  country  like  ours — to 
be  a  minister  here,  wliei'e  my  efforts  ought  to  lia\e  an  immediate 
and  a  mighty  bearing  on  the  triumph  of  the  gospel  through  our 
land  and  through  the  world — O  it  is  a  fearful  thing.  Who  is 
sufficient  ? 

You  see  something  of  the  labors  wdiich  your  minister  must 
perform,  and  something  of  the  responsibilities  which  he  nmst 
sustain.  And  yet  these  responsibilities  which  might  crush  the 
spirit  of  an  angel,  and  these  labors  which  might  exhaust  the 
powers  of  a  seraph,  are  laid  on  man,  weak,  sinful  man — on  me- 
And  this  leads  me  to  speak  of  myself  in  my  unworthiness  and 
my  infirmities,  wdiich  I  would  do  in  all  frankness  of  heart,  and 
with  entire  confidence  in  your  affection. 

It  would  l)e  useless  for  me  on  this  occasion,  to  descant  at 
length  on  the  frailty  of  human  nature,  or  the  deep  depravity  of 
the  human  heart.  Equally  vain  would  it  be  to  tell  you  that 
human  frailty  ever  remains  till  the  soul  rises  from  its  prison- 
house  of  clay ;  or  that  human  depravity  expires,  even  in  the 
Christian,  only  with  the  last  pulsation  of  expiring  mortality. 
This  you  know — this  inethinks  you  can  never  forget ;  and  you 
know  too  that  your  minister  is  human,  encompassed  with  all 
the  infirmities  incident  to  man,  and  stained  with  all  the  sinful- 
ness of  our  common  nature.  But  sometimes  men,  in  their  par- 
tial judgment  of  an  individual  whom  they  love,  while  they 
acknowledge  that  he  is  a  pai-takei-  in  the   connuon  frailty   and 


60  LEONARD    BACON. 

depravity  of  Iniiuan  nature,  seem  to  forget  that  liis  share  in 
human  frailty  is  something  real,  consisting  in  the  peculiar  infir- 
mities of  his  individual  character,  and  that  his  share  in  human 
depravity  is  ecjually  a  reality,  and  consists  in  the  particular  mod- 
itications  of  his  individual  corru2iti(m.  Of  this  it  is  proper  that 
r  should  remind  you  on  the  present  occasion.  You  may  be 
prone  to  forget  it ;  but  it  is  nevertheless  so  true  that  my  lan- 
guage is  not  too  strong  when  I  say  that  the  numberless  diversi- 
ties of  individual  character  are  little  else  than  the  diversities 
of  human  weakness  and  guilt.  And  when  Paul  said,  "  we 
have  this  treasure  in  earthen  vessels,"  he  meant  to  imply  that 
the  preaching  of  the  gospel  is  committed  to  frail  and  sinful 
beings,  and  that  every  individual  minister  has  his  own  infirmi- 
ties and  his  own  corruptions.  One  minister  has  too  little  versa- 
tility of  character  for  the  variety  of  his  functions.  Another 
has  too  much  to  accomplish  anything  either  for  his  own  im- 
provement or  for  the  cause  to  which  he  is  devoted.  One  is 
chained  down  by  an  unconquerable  indolence  ;  another  feels 
the  fires  of  an  unholy  ambition  ever  kindling  and  burning 
within  him.  One  would  seem  to  be  incurably  tainted  with 
avarice ;  another  is  equally  distinguished  by  a  native  prodi- 
gality of  temper.  One  is  so  entirely  professional  in  his  habits 
that  he  has  no  sympathy  with  men  ;  another  is  perpetually 
beguiled  and  drawn  aside  by  the  fascinations  of  literature.  One 
is  morose  in  his  disposition,  and  uncommunicative  in  his  man- 
ners ;  another  injures  the  cause  of  his  Redeemer  by  the  ungov- 
ernable gayety  of  his  spirit,  and  the  unrestrained  levity  of  his 
conversation.  One  is  phlegmatic,  and  another  is  passionate. 
One  is  too  timid  for  action,  and  another  too  impetuous  for  de- 
liberation. 

You  all  know  this,  for  it  is  a  thing  exposed  to  your  daily 
observation.  I  know  it  too,  as  well  as  you  do.  You  know  too 
— and  I  would  not  have  you  forget  for  a  moment — that  your 
minister  must  be  like  other  ministers,  frail  and  sinful.  And 
the  longer  you  know  me,  the  more  distinct  will  be  your  con- 
ceptions, and  the  more  thorough  your  conviction  of  this.  I 
have  long  been  convinced  of  my  infirmity  and  my  depravity  ; 
but  never  was  my  conviction  so  impressive  as  it  is  now,  when 
I  look  at  myself,  and  at  the  commission  which   I  am  called  to 


IXAICrHAL    SKinioN.  (11 

execute.  II(t\v  ti-ue  is  it  tliat  we  have  this  treasni-e  in  eartlien 
vessels.  I  speak  not  of  youthful  inuuaturity  and  youthful 
inexperit'iice  ;  for  it  is  <;()o(l  for  ;i  man  to  ]>ear  the  yoke  in  his 
youth — it  is  oood  for  a  man  to  a('(|uire  ex])enence,  and  to  leai'ii 
the  full  eonqiass  of  ]iis  powers,  by  the  greatest  and  tlie  earliest 
efforts; — and  he  who  would  aceoniplisli  high  purposes  of  good, 
in  the  hrief  jjeriod  of  human  life,  must  begin  betimes  to  do 
with  his  might  wluitsoevei-  his  hand  tindeth  to  do.  I  speak  of 
wliat  I  feel  within  me,  and  (tf  what  othei-s  have  observed  in  my 
conduct — of  constitutional  frailties  and  nnsnbdued  corruptions. 
What  they  are  I  need  not  attempt  to  say — for  if  you  know 
them  not  already,  you  will  soon  know  them  all,  and  better  per- 
haps than  1  shall  e\ei-  know  them.  Of  such  things  as  these  I 
speak — of  the  thonsand  teniptations  that  will  beset  me  in  all 
my  i^aths,  and  against  which  1  must  sti'uggle — under  all  tiiis 
weight  of  responsibilty — to  the  end.  Who  is  snfKcient  foi- 
these  things  :' 

Who  that  is  thns  encomj)assed  with  infirmity,  and  burdened 
with  guiU,  can  endure  discouragement  in  such  a  work  as  this? 
And  yet,  when  T  look  forward  to  the  years  that  I  must  spend 
among  you,  it  requires  no  ]iroplietic  wisdom  to  descry  the  per- 
plexities and  trials  that  will  conspire  to  hedge  up  my  path  and  to 
overwhelm  my  spirit.  Blessed  be  God  that  I  know  but  little  of 
the  tilings  that  must  befall  me  here.  Blessed  be  God  who  ever 
covei's  with  clouds  and  shadows  the  coming  trials  of  our  pilgrim- 
age. But  who,  that  looks  backward  with  cool  reflection,  and 
then  forward  with  serious  thoughtfulness,  needs  anv  monitor  to 
tell  him  that  "we  spend  our  years  as  a  tale  that  is  told,"  or  that 
each  successive  year  will  come  over  him  with  its  own  oppressive 
griefs  and  withering  disappointments  i  So  when  I  look  for- 
Avard  with  deliberate  thought  to  the  years  that  I  am  to  spend 
among  you,  I  can  see  that  they  must  be  "  few  and  evil"  ; — 1 
can  see  that  they  may  be  very  few,  and  1  can  know  that  everv  one 
of  them  will  bring  with  it  its  own  weight  of  afliiction.  It 
would  be  inappropriate  on  this  occasion  to  speak  of  such  ti'ials 
as  are  common  to  all — of  personal  alilictions, —  bereavement,  and 
disappointment,  and  distress.  Equally  inappropriate,  and  alto- 
gether ungenerous  would  it  be  to  anticipate  the  time,  which 
I  trust  will  never  come,  when  the  kindness  of  my  people  shall 
6 


&>  LEONARD    l?AC()K. 

have  passed  away,  and  the  coldness  of  disreijard,  or  the  stern- 
ness of  disHke  shall  he  fonnd  instead  of  the  atfection  whieli  I 
now  read  in  those  looks  of  ghidness,  and  liear  in  those  tones  of 
love  with  which  yon  bid  me  welcome.  I  would  desci-ihe  to 
you,  if  I  could,  the  sorrows,  and  discouragements,  and  trials 
peculiar  to  my  office.  I  would  tell  you  how  the  minister  must 
share  in  all  the  sorrows  of  his  iiock,  till  every  affiiction  and 
every  grief  of  theirs  becomes  his  own.  1  would  tell  how  dis- 
couraging it  must  be,  in  the  midst  of  all  his  labors,  to  feel  that 
imbecility  and  that  unworthiness  of  which  I  have  just  been 
speaking.  I  would  tell  how  sore  must  be  the  trial  of  his  faith, 
and  how  deeply  painful  to  all  his  tenderest  feelings,  when  he 
sees  the  souls  for  whose  salvation  he  labors  and  prays,-^going 
onward  and  downward  to  death.  But  I  know  not  where  to 
begin ;  and  if  I  should  attempt  it  now,  the  time  would  fail  me 
before  I  could  know  where  to  end. 

Let  me  conclude,  then,  for  this  morning,  with  one  brief 
request ;  and  I  make  this  request  in  view  of  all  that  has  l)een 
said.  Brethren,  pray  for  me.  Who  is  sufficient  for  these 
things  'i  I  am  not.  You  know  that  1  am  not.  You  may  do 
whatever  your  affection  prompts,  to  cheer  me  on  in  the  perform- 
ance of  my  duties.  Over  my  infirmities  and  faults  you  may 
spread  the  mantle  of  your  love.  You  may  seek  to  give  me 
consolation  under  the  discouragements  and  sorrows  that  will 
conspire  to  overwhelm  me.  But  all  this  will  be  of  little  avail. 
Your  affection,  your  forbearancje,  your  sympathy  cannot  gird 
me  with  almighty  power.  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things '{ 
— "  I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ  strengthening  me."  To 
all  among  you,  then,  I  say,  brethren,  pray  for  me.  In  the  little 
circle  for  social  prayer,  let  your  Pastor  be  remendiered.  In  the 
morning  and  evening  worship  of  every  family,  let  supplication 
be  made  for  him.  In  the  retirement  of  every  closet  let  his 
image  mingle  with  your  thoughts  ;  and  when  you  get  nearest 
to  the  throne,  let  his  name  ascend  with  youi-  most  fer\ent  as])i- 
rations.  Then  my  lal)or  among  you  will  not  be  in  vain.  When 
"  I  publish  the  name  of  the  Lord,"  "my  doctrine  shall  dro])  as 
the  rain  and  my  speech  shall  distill  as  the  dew."  I  shall  ap])ear 
before  vou  arrayed  in  the  salvation  of  oui-  (^od,  and  all  his  saints 
will  shout  aloud  tor  jov. 


.\'Ar(;i   KAI.    SKUMON.  ('>.''> 


I'l'lic   t'(illu\\iiiu-   noti'  i>  oil  till'  tlv-lc;it'  of  the  sc'nii(»ii.| 

N.  n. — I  wisli  it  to  1)1'  uiKU'i'stood  tliat  when  I  j)iv;i(*li  a  ser- 
inoii  like  this — occdxiomil  in  its  suhject  aiul  desiii-n,  I  sliall  he 
entirely  willino-  to  lend  the  nianusei-i])t  to  <il1  such  nienil)ei's  of 
the  soeietv  as  feel  a,  pai'ticiiiai-  desii-e  to  read  it.  l>nt  the  incon- 
veniences and  losses,  wliich  many  ministers  expei-ienci;  fi'oin  the 
practice  of  lendhuj  <(ll  tliPir  semions,  are  so  many  and  so  ijreat 
that  I  hope  none  will  re<piire  it  of  me. 


S  E  R  M  O  N 

Preached  on  his  Sixty-third  Birthday,  by 
Rev.  Leonard  Bacon,  D.D. 


TIIK    MKA8UKE   OF   OUR    DAYS. 

Preached  Feb.  ]!t,  1865. 
I'sALM  XXXIX.  4.  o.— Lord,  make  me  to  know  mine  exd,  and  the  measure 

OK  MY  DAYS.  WHAT  IT  IS;  THAT  I  MAY  KNOW  HOW  FRAIL  I  AM.  BEHOLD,  THOU 
IIA.ST  MADE  MY  DAYS  AS  A  HAND-BREADTH,  AND  MINE  AGE  IS  AS  NOTHIXG  BE- 
FORE   THKE:    VERir.Y    EVERY    MAN    AT    HIS    BEST   STATE    IS    ALTOGETHER  VANITY. 

Ill  another  Psalm,  "the  measure  of  our  days"  is  more  deH- 
iiitely  spoken  of: — "The  days  of  our  years  are  threescore 
years  and  ten ;  and  if  ])y  reason  of  strength  they  be  fourscore 
years,  yet  is  their  strengtli  hihor  and  sorrow,  for  it  is  soon  cut 
olf,  and  we  fly  away."  Some  men,  liaving  an  extraordinary 
tenacity  of  life,  live  on  till  they  have  completed  eighty  years, 
or  even  more,  under  an  ever  accumulating  burthen  of  inflrm- 
ities;  but  they  are  only  the  exceptions  that  prove  the  rule. 
Seventy  years  is  the  ordinary  or  normal  duration  of  a  com- 
})leted  human  life.  Most  persons,  of  course,  die  much  younger, 
but  of  them  we  say  that  they  die  before  their  time. 

Long  ago  it  was  thought  that  the  seventy  years  length  of 
human  life  is  divided  naturally  into  terms  or  sections  of  seven 
years  each.  Perhaps  the  thought  is  not  altogether  fanciful. 
If  we  allow  the  first  seven  years  of  life  to  infancy,  and  the 
second  to  childhood*,  the  third  completes  that  part  of  human 


66  LEONARD    BACON. 

life  which  maj  be  called  the  time  of  preparation  for  the  full 
responsibilities  of  manhood  in  society.  At  the  age  of  twenty- 
one,  the  youth  is  regarded  as  having  become  a  man  capable  of 
performing  all  the  duties  of  citizenship.  Seven  years  later — 
at  twenty-eight — he  is  no  longer  a  young  man.  Add  seven 
years  more,  and  he  has  already  reached  the  noon  of  life= — half 
way  from  the  cradle  to  the  grave.  F<jr  the  last  seven  years  he 
has  been  in  the  full  maturity  and  vigor  of  his  powders,  and 
through  two  more  of  these  weeks  of  years— if  he  escapes  dis- 
ease and  serious  accident — his  bodily  strength,  as  well  as  the 
force  of  his  mind,  remains  undiminished.  But  when  he  has 
completed  the  seventh  of  the  septennial  periods,  and  enters  on 
his  fiftieth  year  of  life,  he  finds  that  his  day  has  begun  to  de- 
cline. He  is  not  yet  in  his  old  age,  but  he  begins  to  find  that 
the  large  majority  of  men  in  active  life  are  younger  than  him- 
self. Tie  can  do  as  much  work  as  ever,  and  perhaps  can  do  it 
quite  as  w^ell  as  ever ;  but  gray  hairs  are  on  him  here  and 
there,  and  he  knows  it ;  his  face  is  marked  with  deeper  fur- 
rows ;  his  complexion  has  lost  all  the  tints  of  youth  ;  his  sight 
grows  dim,  and  needs  some  artificial  aid.  (Iradually  but 
steadily,  through  twice  seven  years,  the  change  is  going  on. 
His  mind  may  be  as  active  as  ever,  the  faculty  of  judgment 
and  foresight,  trained  by  long  experience,  may  be  wiser,  and 
more  to  be  relied  on  than  ever  ;  but  he  begins  to  find  (and 
every  year  the  discovery  is  more  complete),  that  he  can  endure 
less  of  hardship,  and  that  he  is  more  liable  to  infirmity.  Thus 
he  comes  to  the  end  of  the  ninth  septennial  period.  He  has 
completed  sixty-three  years  of  life ;  and  there  remain  before 
him  only  seven  short  years — very  short  indeed — to  complete 
the  "  threescore  years  and  ten."  Henceforth  he  is  an  old  man, 
growing  older  every  day.  What  remains  of  life  to  him,  is  like 
the  sunset  of  our  northern  climate — twilight  slowly  fading 
into  darkness. 

Just  at  this  point  I  am  standing  to-day  ;  for  to-day  I  enter 
on  the  last  seven  years  of  the  "  threescore  years  and  ten."  I 
remember  how  singular  the  imjn-ession  was  when  I  first  heard 
the  expression  from  a  father  in  the  ministiw,  about  thirty  years 
ago,  that  he  "thought  he  had  about  ten  years  work  left  in 
him."      He   was  sixty  years   ohl,  and  his  constitution  was  un- 


riiK   MKAsrin-:  of  oih   i>.\^'f^.  ^u 

hrokeii  ;  and  lie  tliono;}!!  he  inioht  live  on,  and  work  on,  about 
ten  years.  Accnstonied  as  I  tlien  was  to  tliink  more  of  the 
uncertaintv  of  mortal  life  than  of  its  certain  limit,  I  was 
startled  hv  the  deliniteness  of  the  cak-nlation.  But  now  for 
some  time  past,  I  have  been  learning  to  calculate  my  own 
future  with  the  same  detiniteness.  The  element  of  nncei-tainty 
remains,  ])ut  the  element  of  certainty  is  constantly  beconung 
more  predominant  in  all  such  calculations.  1  know  not  what 
a  day  may  ])ring  forth  ;  but  I  know  the  measure  of  my  days, 
that  the  days  of  our  years  are  threescore  years  and  ten,  and  1 
know  that,  of  that  measure,  only  seven  short  years  remain  to 
me.  1  know  that  those  seven  years  will  be  years  of  decadence 
and  decay — that  every  one  of  them  will  tell  upon  my  mortal 
frame,  that  exevy  one  of  them  will  press  me  forward  to  the 
front  rank  of  (^Id  men  Avho  have  out-lived  their  generation. 

Meeting  you,  my  friends,  in  the  house  of  God  to-day,  and 
standing  before  you  to  speak  and  to  teach  in  Christ's  name,  I 
propose  simply  to  present  to  you  some  of  the  views  which  im- 
press me  as  I  look  upon  life  from  my  present  position.  Post- 
poning the  review  of  my  ministry  in  the  pastoral  office  to  a 
more  appropriate  occasion,  and  preferring  to  say  as  little  as 
possible  about  myself,  I  only  intend  to  show  you,  if  1  can,  how 
this  life  which  we  are  now  living,  seems  to  one  who  finds  that 
he  has  so  nearly  completed  the  measure  of  his  days. 

I.  First  of  all  I  am  impressed  with  this  :  The  measure  of 

OUR  DAYS  ON  EARTH  IS  ALTOGETHER  INADEQUATE  TO  THE 
MEASURE  OF  OUR  CAPABILITY  AS  INTELLECTUAL  AND  SPIRIT- 
UAL BEINGS.  When  we  know  most  thoroughly  how  frail  we 
are,  and  realize  most  clearly  that  God  has  made  our  days  as  a 
hand-l)readth,  and  that  our  age  is  as  nothing  before  hiu]  ;  then 
it  is  that  we  feel  nujst  deeply  the  disproportion  between  the 
narrow  measure  of  our  days  and  the  boundless  development 
and  progress  of  which  our  higher  nature  is  capable.  How 
much  more  might  we  do — how  much  higher  might  we  ascend 
in  knowledge  and  wisdom,  and  in  likeness  to  God — if  life  were 
not  so  short  (  For  example,  I  have  been  learning  from  the 
Scriptures,  first  as  a  child,  then  as  a  man,  and  then  as  a  minis- 
ter of  the  word,  more  than  fifty  years ;  and  yet  it  seems  to  me 
that  now  T  am  only  beginning  to  appreciate  the  treasures  of 


68  LEOXARD    BACON. 

wisdom  and  knowledge,  and  to  H])prehend  the  evidences  of 
God's  love,  which  are  brought  to  us  in  that  holy  book.  So 
through  all  these  years  I  have  been  learning — as  my  busy  life 
has  yielded  opportunities — something  about  God's  works  in 
nature,  and  his  providence  unfolding  into  history,  but  I  am 
only  beginning  to  know  what  I  might  know.  I  know  more 
now  than  1  knew  a  year  ago.  I  hope  to  know  more  next  year 
than  I  know  now.  I  hope  to  go  on  learning,  year  after  year, 
till  sight  shall  fade  from  my  eyes,  and  the  worn-out  brain  shall 
cease  to  serve  me.  But,  oh,  how  much  niore  might  I  learn  if 
I  could  have  another  term  of  threescore  years  and  ten  I  From 
my  childhood  I  have  been  learning  also,  under  God's  gracious 
teaching  (though,  alas  I  inaptly  and  slowly),  the  great  life-les- 
son of  confidence  in  God,  of  satisfaction  in  his  will,  of  fellow- 
ship with  his  abhorrence  of  wrong,  and  of  free  cooperation 
with  his  love.  Is  all  my  possibility  of  progress  in  this  respect 
shut  up  within  the  narrow  measure  of  my  mortal  days  ? 

I  have  no  hesitation,  then,  in  saying  that,  in  proportion  as 
God  makes  us  to  know  our  end,  and  the  measure  of  our  days 
what  it  is,  that  we  may  know  how  frail  we  are,  the  conscious- 
ness of  not  being  created  for  this  life  only  grows  deeper  and 
stronger.  The  promise,  "  With  long  life  will  I  satisfy  him," 
can  never  be  perfectly  fulfilled  in  such  a  life  as  this.  Xot 
''threescore  years  and  ten,"  nor  "fourscore  years"  are  enough 
for  the  capabilities  of  our  intelligent,  affectionate,  and  spiritual 
nature.  The  machinery  of  this  mortal  body  may  be  clogged 
and  broken,  may  wear  out  and  ])e  useless — it  may  become  an 
incumbrance,  a  burthen,  a  prison — the  soul,  weary  of  what  has 
become  its  l)urthen  and  its  prison,  may  long  to  be  released  by 
death ;  but  it  is  only  a  life  l)eyond  the  reach  of  these  infirmi- 
ties that  can  satisfy  the  soul.  It  is  only  such  a  life  that  can 
develop  all  the  caj^alulities  of  our  higher  nature.  "And  now. 
Lord,  what  wait  I  for  i  My  h(jpe  is  in  Thee."  The  ht>pe  that 
clings  to  (xod  is  a  hope  that  cannot  die. 

Such  is  one  view  of  life  as  seen  from  the  position  at  which  1 
stand  to-day.  •  This  life  is  not  enough  foi-  us.  We  are  n)ade 
for  more  than  this. 

II.  Looking  at  our  mortal  life  in  the  light,  as  it  were,  of  life's 
sunset,  1  am  impressed  with  this  view  :   Xo  MAN  LiVKS  to  any 


THK    MKASrWF,    OF    i)}'K    DAYS.  69 

Gf)f)i)  FiRPosK  WHO  I.IVES  FOR  H1MSEJ>F  ALONE.  My  individ- 
ual life  on  earth — what  is  it  t  Its  whole  duration  is  only  a  few 
yeai's  at  tlie  ion^-est;  and.  when  it  is  ended,  what  will  he  the 
difference  to  me  wliether  I  have  heen  ricli  or  poor — whether  1 
have  lived  in  one  house  or  another — whetiier  I  have  heen 
clothed  in  |)urple  and  fine  linen  and  have  fared  sumptuously 
everv  day,  or  have  shivered  in  rags  and  been  ])inched  with 
hunger — whether  the  sculptured  marble  is  piled  above  niy 
grave,  or  only  the  roimded  turf  shows  that  there  a  dead  body 
was  buried  (  My  individual  life,  by  the  ordinance  of  the  Crea- 
tor, is  intimately  blended  witJi  otlier  lives  in  relations  of  duty, 
of  dependence,  and  of  love ;  and  the  ties  that  bind  me  to 
others  and  make  their  welfare  dear  to  me,  forbid  me  to  live  for 
individual  interests  of  my  own.  My  life  in  this  world  is  not 
individual  but  social,  and,  as  I  approach  the  end  of  life,  it 
is  natnral  for  me  to  take  less  thought  for  my  individual  inter- 
ests here,  and  more  for  the  welfare  of  those  whom  T  am  so  soon 
to  leave  behind  me.  As 'I  Und  and  feel  that  my  work  is  almost 
done,  the  appeal  seems  more  urgent  than  ever  before  :  '^  What- 
soever thy  hand  findeth  to  do,  do  it  with  thy  might,  for  there 
is  no  work,  nor  device,  nor  knowledge,  nor  wisdom,  in  the 
grave ;"  but  O,  how  preposterous  does  it  seem,  at  this  time  of 
life,  to  be  working  for  individual  and  selfish  interests  of  my 
own  I  When  my  end  is  just  before  me,  and  I  understand  so 
clearly  the  measure  of  my  days,  what  it  is,  my  individual  inter- 
ests in  this  world  sink  into  insignificance ;  but  the  affections 
which  bind  me  to  those  with  whose  life  my  life  is  Ijlended,  to 
those  who  in  the  course  of  nature  shall  survive  me,  and  to 
those  who  shall  come  after  me  when  the  places  that  know  me 
now  sliall  know  me  no  more,  lose  none  of  their  strength.  It 
is  natural  for  me  to  love  the  dear  ones  in  my  home,  and  all 
that  are  nearest  to  my  life,  the  more  and  not  the  less  for  that  I 
must  leave  them  so  soon.  For  the  same  reason  it  is  natural 
for  me  to  care  not  less  but  nu>re  for  the  future  of  the  flock 
among  whom  I  have  labored  so  long  in  my  high  vocation,  now 
that  my  labor  is  so  nearly  ended.  For  the  same  reason,  it  is 
natural  for  me,  in  these  few  last  years  of  life,  to  cai'e  not 
less  but  more  for  those  aggi'egated  and  enduring  interests 
which  involve  the  welfare  of  millions  and  of  successive  genera- 


70  LEOXARD    BACON. 

tions.  Now  that  there  is,  in  tliis  life,  continually  less  and  less 
that  can  tempt  my  selfish  hopes,  is  it  not  natural  that  I  should 
do  what  I  can,  more  freely  and  earnestly,  for  the  common- 
wealth, for  the  nation,  for  the  church  of  God  on  earth,  for  the 
world  of  mankind  t 

Think,  now,  young  as  well  as  old,  is  this  view  of  life  an  illu- 
sion t  Or  is  it  a  sober  sense  of  the  reality  (  Think,  is  it  wise 
to  make  your  own  individual  and  selfish  interest  the  end  for 
which  y(Ui  scheme,  and  work,  and  struggle  in  this  world  ( 
Think,  is  not  that  great  law  of  religion — that  law  which  is  so 
gloriously  illustrated  in  the  life  and  death  of  (rod's  Incarnate 
Son — that  law,  "  None  of  us  liveth  to  himself  " — revealed  to 
you  even  in  the  measure  of  your  days  i  In  tliis  dying  yet  en- 
during world,  made  up  of  human  lives  so  intimately  mingled 
with  each  other  in  all  sorts  of  natural  affections  and  sympathies 
— where  every  man  is  connected  with  those  around  him  and 
with  others  far  away,  in  ten  thousand  relations  of  inevitable 
dependence  and  of  duty — where  each  individual  life,  so  tran- 
sient in  itself,  is  inseparably  related  to  the  enduring  interests 
of  society — hoAv  prepostei'ons  is  a  life  of  mere  self-seeking  t 
How  truly  is  that  life  described  by  the  Psalmist :  "  Surely 
every  man  walketh  in  a  vain  show :  surely  they  are  disquieted 
in  vain :  he  heapetli  up  riches,  and  knoweth  not  Mdio  shall 
gather  them.'"'     Are  you  willing  to  live  such  a  life  ( 

III.  Looking  upon  human  life  from  the  position  in  which  I 
stand  to-day,  T  am  impressed  with  this  view :  Worldly  dis- 
tinctions, HOWEVER  GREAT,  ARE  INSIGNIFICANT  WHEN  COM- 
PARED  WITH   DISTINCTIONS   OF   PERSONAL  CHARACTER   BEFORE 

God.  In  proportion  as  we  consciously  approach  the  end  of 
our  probation,  and  know,  distinctly,  the  measure  of  our  days, 
what  it  is,  all  those  distinctions  which  worldly  minds  most 
value,  lose  their  importance  in  our  view.  Wealthy  social  posi- 
tion, learning,  intellectual  eminence,  the  admiration  and  applause 
of  men — all  such  things,  as  I  advance  in  life,  seem  less  and  less 
to  be  respected  in  comparison  with  goodness,  purity  of  heart, 
the  simple  and  earnest  love  of  truth  and  right,  and  the  unself- 
ish readiness  to  labor  and  suffer  at  the  call  of  duty  or  of  love. 
These  elements  of  personal  character  seem  more  and  more 
beautiful — more  iiiid    more  desirable — to  one  who   surveys  life, 


'I'lIK    MKASIHK    C)F    OIK    T)AVS.  71 

ealiiilv,  ill  tlic  iiiellctw  and  solier  li^'lit  of  life's  latest  years. 
What  are  all  worldly  distinctions — wealtli,  station,  lionor, 
admiration,  a])j)laiise — when  seen  no  loniier  in  the  bewildering; 
j>:lare  of  this  deeeitfnl  world  t — what  ai'e  they  to  one  who  knows 
and  feels  that  his  reinaininn-  days  are  as  a  hand-breadth  and  his 
life  as  a  vapor  f — what  are  they  when  seen  in  the  thouglitfiil 
twiliiiht  between  this  hurried,  transitory  life  and  the  hereafter  f 

Is  this  view  a  mistaken  one  (  Or  am  I  right  in  tlie  impres- 
sion which  I  get  in  looking  njion  life  as  it  is  now  presented  to 
my  view  (  Js  goodness  nioi-e  wortliy  to  be  honored  tlian  any 
sort  of  greatness — more  to  he  desired  as  a  personal  endowment 
than  all  riches  and  honors  in  this  world  (  Is  it  better  to  be 
like  C^hrist  than  to  be  anything  within  the  range  of  hnman  pos- 
sibility {  Is  it  better  to  have  that  dignity  and  that  felicity  than 
to  have  all  that  the  world  can  give  yon  ( 

Yon  acknowledge,  then,  that  this  view  of  life  is  not  a  mere 
hallncinatioii,  and  that  to  be  like  Christ  is  realh"  the  best  possi- 
ble attainment.  Well,  do  you  know  /tovj  yon  can  become  like 
Christ  i  He  calls  you  to  believe  on  him,  and  to  follow  him, 
that  you  may  be  like  him.  "  Come  to  me,"  he  says,  "  all  ye 
that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden  " — ye  that  are  walking  in  a  vain 
show — ye  that  are  discj^uieted  in  vain — ye  that  are  laboriously 
and  fruitlessly  seeking  great  things  for  yourselves — ye  that  are 
heaping  up  riches  and  know  not  w^ho  shall  gather  them — 
"  come  to  me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest ;  take  my  yoke  upon  you 
and  learn  of  me,  for  I  am  meek  and  lowly  in  heart."  Learn 
of  him,  taking  his  yoke  upon  you,  and  giving  yourself  up,  con- 
fidingly and  gratefully,  to  his  guidance,  and  you  shall  l)e  trans- 
formed into  his  likeness  by  the  renewing  of  your  mind,  and 
shall  find  that  if  any  man  be  in  Christ  he  is  a  new  creature. 
You  can  never  form  such  a  character  without  his  intervention 
reconciling  you  to  (iod,  and  giving  you  his  Holy  Spirit. 

IV.  This  brings  me  to  say  that,  as  I  now  survey  the  measure  of 
my  days,  I  am  more  than  ever  before  impressed  with  THE  CON- 
VICTION THAT  KO  SORT  OF  LIFE  IS  SO  REASONABLE  OR  BLESSED 
AS  A  LIFE  OF  GODLINESS.  The  nearer  I  come  to  the  end  of 
my  time  on  earth — the  narrower  the  space  between  me  and  my 
grave — the  deeper  and  clearer  is  the  feeling  in  my  soul,  that 
godliness  (as  religion   is  called  in   the   Nev,-   Testament),  the 


72  LEONARD    BACOX. 

heait}^  acknowledgment  of  (-rod,  the  habitual  worship  of  God, 
the  free  and  thankful  service  of  God  in  all  the  work  he  gives 
US  here,  the  soul's  joyful  confidence  in  God's  love  and  wisdom, 
fellowship  with  the  Father  and  with  his  Son  Jesus  Christ,  is 
that  without  which  life  is  wasted  and  lost.  Godliness — the 
habitual  sense  of  God's  loving  presence  and  unfailing  care,  and 
the  consciousness  of  walking  with  him  in  all  duty  and  through 
all  the  vicissitudes  of  joy  and  sorrow — -the  habit  of  referring 
all  things  to  God's  will,  and  of  trusting  all  things  to  his  wis- 
dom and  his  love — is  the  strength,  the  vital  growth,  the  high- 
est beauty,  and  the  sanctity,  of  all  human  goodness ;  and 
without  it  life,  as  related  to  our  highest  capabilities,  is  a  failure. 
Life  without  godliness  dishonors  God  by  dishonoring  the 
nature  which  he  has  given  us.  ITnless  God  be  with  us,  all  the 
bloom  of  life  is  ever  vanishing  away,  like  the  withering  grass, 
like  the  fading  Hower  ; — the  grace  of  the  fashion  of  it  ever  per- 
ishing. But  if  God  be  with  us,  if  we  see  the  Lord  always 
before  us,  if  all  our  aifections  and  all  our  thouglits  pay  homage 
to  him,  then,  all  along  the  way  of  our  pilgrimage,  the  earth 
blooms  with  unfading  beauty,  aud  life,  to  its  latest  hour,  is  full 
of  light. 

Let  me  say  farther,  in  this  connection,  that,  as  I  grow  older, 
the  idea  or  conception  of  godliness  becomes,  to  me,  more  sim- 
ple as  well  as  more  attractive.  God  is  revealed  to  men  in 
Ghrist — revealed  to  you — revealed  as  reconciling  the  world  to 
himself.  If  you  will  learn  of  (lirist,  he  will  make  you 
acquainted  with  God — acquainted  with  him  not  oidy  in  his 
majestic  purity,  in  his  adorable  and  awful  abhorrence  of  evil, 
and  in  the  gramleur  of  his  law  and  government,  but  also  in  his 
loving  kindness  and  the  unspeakable  tenderness  of  his  regard 
for  you  in  the  I'uin  into  which  you  have  fallen  by  sinning 
against  him.  Let  Christ  teach  you,  and  you  shall  see  in  him 
the  glory  of  the  Father — a  glory  not  far  away  beyond  the 
stars,  but  near  at  hand  to  love  you,  to  embrace  you,  and  to 
bless  you.  Leai'ii  of  (Christ,  and  you  shall  speak  to  (yod,  as  a 
(•hild  speaking  to  a  fathei'.  ""  The  docti'ine  which  is  accoi'ding 
to  godliness,"  and  in  which  godliness  has  its  root  and  life,  is 
not  a  system  of  metaphysics  or  of  philoso])hy  ;  it  is  simply  the 
stoi'V  of  ("hi'ist  loving  us,  living  for  us,  sutVcriug  ;ind  dying  foi- 


TlIK    MKASl   UK    (»l'    <»ru     |tA^S.  1 4 

uti,  and  living-  forever  as  oiii-  Saviour.  It  is  the  siiii])ie  but 
sublime  testimony,  ''(Tttd  so  loved  the  woi'ld  that  he  ^ave  his 
oidy  beii;otten  Son,  that  whosoevei'  believeth  in  him  should  not 
perish,  but  have  everlastini>-  life."  It  is  the  "  faithful  say inu', 
and  woithy  of  all  acceptation,  tliat  (Jlirist  .lesns  came  into  tlie 
woi-Id  to  sjive  sinners."  Accept  that  faithful  saying — take  to 
your  heart  that  sublime  and  inspiring  testimony — grasp  it  as 
life  from  the  dead — cling  to  it  as  your  hope  forever.  Thus 
you  shall  receive  the  kingdom  of  (iod  as  a  little  child,  and  in 
receiving  it  you  are  boi-u  again.  Tlnis  old  things  in  your 
theory  and  ])lan  of  living,  and  in  your  way  of  thinking  pass 
away,  and  all  things  become  new  ;  and  the  life  wliich  you  H\e 
here  on  earth  is  a  ])ilgrimage  to  heaven.  "Behold,  what  man- 
ner of  love  is  this  which  the  Father  hath  bestowed  on  us  I" 


TWO    SERMONS 

Preached  ox  the  Foktieph   Axniveksahv  of  his  Setj'le 
MEXT.  BY  Rev.  Leonaei)  Bacon,  D.I). 


MORNINO  DISCOURSE. 


REMEMBRANCE   OF   FORTY   YEARS   IN   THE 
PARISH. 

Preached  March  12.  1865. 

Deut.  VIII.  2. — Thou  shalt  remember  all  the  way  which  the  Lord  thy 
(tOd  led  thee  these  forty  years 

The  words  of  Moses  to  the  tribes  of  Israel,  after  their  forty 
years  of  wandering  in  the  wilderness,  are  equally  applicable  to 
you  and  to  uie  this  day.  Forty  years  ago,  on  the  second 
Lord's-day  in  March,  1825,  I  began  my  public  ministry  in  this- 
house  as  the  Pastor  of  this  Church  and  Society.  Your  kind 
congratulations  offered  to  me  on  the  anniversarj^  of  my  instal- 
lation, relieve  me  of  the  necessity  of  any  apology  for  the  use 
which  I  jiropose  to  make  of  the  text,  or  for  the  seeming  ego- 
tism of  a  discourse  in  which  I  cannot  avoid  speaking  of  myself. 
The  relation  between  you  and  me  is  such — so  like  a  confi- 
dential friendship  cemented  by  long  accjuaintance — that  I  may 
speak  without  any  fear  of  being  unkindly  interpreted,  even 
though  the  occasion  leads  me  to  speak  of  "  myself  as  your  ser- 
vant for  Jesus'  sake."     A  free  use  of  personal  reminiscences 


76  LEi^NARD    BAC'OK. 

iiiuy  be  permitted  on  this  occasion,  and  may  help  the  serious 
and  religious  impression  wliich  sucli  an  occasitm  in  the  house 
of  God  ouglit  to  produce  on  yon  and  on  me. 

Forty  years  ago,  this  congregation  had  l)een  more  than  two 
years  without  a  pastor,  Dr.  Taylor  having  been  dismissed  from 
his  charge  in  December,  1822.  The  pulpit  had  been  supplied, 
some  of  the  time,  by  the  late  Pastor ;  and,  while  his  services 
could  be  had  in  that  way,  the  people  were  comparatively  indif- 
ferent about  obtaining  a  more  permanent  ministry.  Yet  sev- 
eral persons  had  been  em])loyed  wdio  nn'ght  be  regarded  as 
candidates.  Of  these,  one,  whose  subsequent  history  Avas  not 
creditable  to  himself  or  to  religion,  was  very  solicitous  to  obtain 
a  call,  and  succeeded  so  far  as  to  rally  a  considerable  party  in 
his  favor.  Another  was  the  amiable  and  gifted  Carlos  Wilcox, 
afterwards  the  first  Pastor  of  the  Noi-th  Church  in  Hartford. 
The  gentle  simplicity  and  attractiveness  of  his  character,  and 
the  elaborate  exquisiteness  and  evangelical  earne'stness  and  in- 
structiveness  of  his  discourses,  made  such  an  impression,  that 
probably  lie  would  have  l)een  invited  to  the  pastorate,  but  fV)r 
the  belief  of  judicious  men  that  his  health  would  not  be  ade- 
quate to  so  great  a  charge,  and  that  his  life  would  be — as  it 
proved — a  short  one.  Another  candidate  was  Albert  Barnes, 
then  recently  from  the  Princeton  Seminary,  who  supplied  the 
pulpit  for  six  weeks,  and  who  is  rememljered  to  this  day  h\ 
some  among  us,  who  heard  him  at  that  time  with  a  just  appre- 
ciation of  his  capability.  Perhaps  the  church  and  society 
never  made  a  greater  mistake  than  when  they  threw  away  the 
opportunity  of  placing  in  the  pastoral  office  here  a  man  who 
has  since  been  so  distinguished  for  his  usefulness  as  a  preacher 
and  a  Pastor.  I  have  never  known  how  to  account  for  it  but 
by  supposing  that  his  not  being  a  graduate  of  Yale  College 
was  permitted  to  have  too  much  weight  with  leading  minds  in 
the  congregation.  Yet  no  consideration  of  that  kind  could 
hinder  the  society  from  uniting  quite  liarnKmiously  in  a  call  to 
one  whose  voice  they  had  not  heard,  but  who  was  m  the 
height  of  his  popularity  as  Pastor  of  a  Presbyterian  church  in 
New  York,  the  Rev.  Samuel  H.  Cox,  now  surviving  in  his 
venerable  age.  Perhaps  it  was  well  foi*  his  reputation  and  use- 
fulness that  he  declined  the  call,   for  mai-velouslv  as  his  shifts 


FORTY    VEAKS    IN    THE    PAKISJI.  77 

were  adapted  to  the  spliejv  in  wliicli  lie  was  tlieii  sliiiiino-,  tliere 
is  rofdii  fni-  doulit  whether  tliey  wei'i'  e(|iially  suited  to  so  (|niet 
a  eity  as  Xew  Haven  then  was.  and  tt>  tlie  staid  disposition  and 
stui'dy  ( 'oUiiTeii-ationalisiii  of  tins  chui-cli. 

At  last  the  Soeiety's  Coininittoe,  ])artly  (as  I  suppose),  at  the 
i-eeonnneudation  of  Professor  Stuart,  sent  for  a  young  man  who 
had  heen  studyini>:  theology  at  Andover.  Seven  years  hefore 
he  had  come,  a  fatherless  hoy,  to  Yale  College  ;  and,  in  consid- 
eration of  his  circnmstances,  he  had  heen  admitted  to  tlie 
so])ho]nore  class,  though  imperfectly  jirepared  for  that  stand- 
ing, and  though  the  college  rule  as  to  the  age  foi-  admission 
must  he  somewhat  relaxed  in  liis  favor.  But  though  for  three 
years  he  had  walked  these  streets,  and  though  the  college  offi- 
cers were  strangely  kind  in  their  estimation  of  him,  he  was 
almost  as  nnicli  a  stranger  in  the  city  of  Xew  Haven  as  if  he 
had  ])assed  those  three  years  of  college-life  at  Camhridge  or  at 
Hanover.  Perhaps  half  a  dozen  memhers  of  the  congregation 
— hai'dly  more — knew  him  l)y  sight,  and  of  them  not  more 
than  one  had  ever  heard  him  preach.  But  the  committee 
knew  that  he  had  never  sought  an  opportunity  of  appearing 
here  as  a  candidate,  and  that  on  one  occasion,  when  incidentally 
in  New  Haven,  he  had  refused  to  preach  lest  it  might  he 
thought  that  he  had  put  himself  in  the  way  of  tlie  invitation. 

My  introduction  here  was  unexpected  to  myself.  Having 
passed  a  fourth  year  at  Andover,  as  a  resident  licentiate,  ren- 
dering some  little  assistance  to  the  Professor  of  Sacred  Rhet- 
oric, and  preaching  occasionally  in  the  churches  of  that  region, 
I  had  determined  to  find  for  myself  a  Held  of  service  in  the 
west ;  and  on  the  28th  of  September,  1824,  I  was  ordained  to 
the  ministry  by  the  Hartford  Xorth  Consociation,  convened  in 
its  annual  meeting  at  Windsor.  The  next  day,  on  ray  return 
to  Hartford,  I  received  a  letter  from  the  committee  of  this 
society,  inviting  me  to  supply  their  vacant  pulpit.  In  compli- 
ance with  that  invitation,  I  preached  here  for  the  first  time 
on  the  first  Sabbath  in  October,  and,  with  the  assistance  of 
President  Hay,  administered  the  Lord's  Supper.  After 
another  Sabbath  I  insisted  on  pursuing  my  journey  westward, 
that,  at  least,  I  might  confer  with  my  mother  l)efore  relin- 
quishing or  even  suspending  the  design  to  which  T  had  com- 


78  LEONARD    BACON. 

mitted  myself.  The  result  was  that  I  returned  ;  and  after  five 
more  weeks  of  prol)ation,  having  preaehed,  in  all,  fourteen  ser- 
mons, I  withdrew. 

But  I  must  not  proceed  in  this  gaiTulous  method.  Yet,  in 
order  to  show  you  just  how  things  were  in  relation  to  my  in- 
troduction to  this  ministry,  I  may  say  that  at  the  annual  meet- 
ing of  the  society  held  at  the  old  Orange  street  lecture-room, 
December  11th,  a  vote  inviting  me  to  settle  in  the  ministry 
here  was  earned  by  forty-two  against  twenty-two,  and  there- 
upon the  meeting  was  adjourned.  At  the  next  meeting 
(Wednesday,  December  15th),  the  subject  was  reconsidered, 
and  by  sixty-eight  against  twenty  the  society  voted  their  appro- 
bation of  my  services,  and  their  desire  that  I  should  settle  with 
them  in  the  work  of  the  ministry,  and  requested  the  church  to 
unite  with  them  in  inviting  me  "  to  take  charge  of  the  society 
and  the  church  connected  with  it  as  their  Pastor  and  gospel 
minister."  In  the  evening  of  the  next  Lord's  Day,  Decend)er 
19tli,  a  responsive  vote  was  passed  by  the  church,  uniting  with 
the  society  in  the  call.  At  an  adjourned  meeting  of  the 
society,  live  days  later,  they  agreed  on  the  terms  and  condi- 
tions of  settlement  which  should  be  projjosed  to  the  Pastor 
elect,  and  appointed  a  committee  to  "  communicate  with  him 
on  the  subject  of  his  settlement."  My  answer,  accepting  the 
invitation,  was  dated  at  Andover,  Januar}'  17,  1825 ;  and  ujjon 
receiving  it  the  church  and  society  united  in  the  appointment 
of  committees  to  make  arrangements  witli  the  Pastor  elect  foi' 
his  installation. 

I  have  mentioned  these  j^articulars  2:)artly  for  the  sake  of  re- 
minding you  liow^  few  of  all  the  persons  who  had  any  part  in 
the  transactions  which  I  have  described,  are  now  alive.  Let 
me,  therefore,  repeat  the  names  that  appear  upon  the  record. 
The  moderator  of  the  society-meeting  was  the  Hon.  James 
Hillhouse — at  that  time  more  widely  known  and  honored  than 
perhaps  any  other  citizen  of  Connecticut.  He  continued  to 
worship  here  almost  eight  years  longer,  but  now  nobody  can 
remember  him  without  remembering  the  third  part  of  a  cen- 
tury. He  was  at  that  time  an  old  man,  whose  active  life  began 
as  long  ago  as  the  Declaration  of  Independence,  and  whose 
unbroken   force   of    body   and    mind    was   the    wonder   of  his 


l••()lr^^•   vk.\i;s  in    i'IIK  i'aimsii.  79 

friends  ;  yet  I  am  now  only  al)»»ut  seven  years  yonnii-er  tlian  lie 
was  then.  The  nio(lerat(»r  of  the  clinrcli-nieetinii-  was  the  Rev. 
Di'.  N[orse,  a  \enei'al»le  man,  I'etired  from  the  ministiT  and 
from  all  pnhlie  enn)loyments,  hnt  he  was  oidy  eighteen  months 
older  than  1  am  to-day.  The  soeietyV  clerk  was  Timothy 
Dwight  Williams,  a  youni;'  mei'ohant  greatly  lieloved  and  es- 
teemed, the  etHcient  and  devoted  superintendent  of  the  Sah- 
l)ath-selM»ol.  lie  has  heen  dead  thirty-foni'  years,  hnt  I  did  not 
think  of  him  as  a  young  man  wIumi  lie  died.  The  connnittee 
entrusted  hy  the  society  witli  the  duty  of  connnunieating  their 
call,  were  the  Hon.  Dyer  White,  Deacon  Nathan  Whiting,  and 
Deacon  Stephen  Twining.  The  call  from  the  church  was  com- 
municated l>y  its  senior  ofHcer,  Deacon  Samuel  Darling.  The 
connnittee  of  ai'rangements  were,  on  the  part  of  the  church, 
Deacons  Darling  and  Whiting  ;  and,  on  tlie  part  of  the  society, 
Don.  Isaac  Mills,  ('a])tain  Henry  Daggett — a  revolutionary 
otiicer  — and  one  young  man,  AVilliam  .1.  Forbes.  Tlie  young- 
est of  all  these  died  beyond  the  noon  of  life,  more  tlian  twenty- 
five  years  ago;  and  how  few  are  tliere  here  to-day  who  can 
distinctly  remember  his  face  and  figure,  or  even  the  ])ub]ic 
grief  at  his  funeral  I 

I  go  back  to  the  council  which  was  convened  for  the  installa- 
tion. It  consisted  of  twelve  members,  clerical  and  lay,  of 
whom  three  are  still  living.  And,  inasmuch  as  customs  have 
changed  since  then,  I  may  be  allowed  to  speak  of  the  proceed- 
ings more  particularly  than  I  should  otherwise  do.  In  those 
days  it  was  thought  that  the  ordination  or  installation  of  a  Pas- 
tor was  a  transaction  too  serious  to  be  hurried  over.  A  day  of 
fasting  and  prayer  had  been  kept  by  the  church  in  preparation 
for  the  appointed  service.  The  council  was  assembled  on 
Tuesday,  March  8th,  at  the  old  wooden  lecture-room  in  Orange 
street,  and  was  organized  by  the  choice  of  President  Day  as 
moderator,  and  Professor  Fitch  as  scribe.  There  was  a  respect- 
able attendance  of  clergymen  and  theological  students,  and 
also  of  those  who,  as  members  of  the  church  or  of  the  society, 
had  an  immediate  interest  in  the  proceedings — so  that  the 
room  was  pretty  well  filled.  The  examination  was  protracted  ; 
and  many  questions  were  asked,  of  which  I  could  not  then  see 
the  bearing,  and  which  I  answered  without  suspecting  their  re- 


80  LEONARD    BACON. 

lation  to  tlieological  parties  and  controversies  tlien  soon  to 
break  forth.  That  examination  having  been  completed,  and 
tlie  candidate  having  been  approved,  tlie  pnblic  service  did  not 
follow  in  the  evening — still  less  was  it  postponed  to  the  next 
Sunday  evening,  for  the  sake  of  getting  a  large  audience,  and 
avoiding  the  competition  Avith  places  of  public  anuisement  ; 
bnt,  the  next  morning,  at  nine  o'clock,  the  council  re-assembled 
at  the  lecture-room  with  the  committees  and  officers  of  the 
cliurch  and  society ;  and,  when  the  record  of  the  proceedings 
had  been  read  and  corrected,  the  council  moved  in  procession 
to  this 'house,  the  officers  of  the  church  and  society  taking  the 
lead.  Here  a  large  congregation  had  already  assembled,  tilling 
the  seats,  above  and  below,  save  such  as  had  ])een  reserved  for 
the  procession.  The  introductory  prayer  was  offered  by  the 
Rev.  Carlos  Wilcox,  of  the  North  ( liurcli  in  Hartford.  The 
sermon  (afterwards  published),  was  preached  by  the  Kev.  Joel 
Hawes,  of  the  First  Church  in  Hartford.  The  prayer  of  in- 
stallation was  oifered  by  the  venerable  Stephen  W.  Stebbins,  of 
West  Haven,  whose  memory,  even  in  his  own  parish,  has  now 
become  a  beautiful  tradition,  though  he  lived  sixteen  years 
after  the  time  of  which  I  am  speaking.  The  charge  was  given 
by  Dr.  Taylor,  as  former  Pastor  of  the  cliurch  ;  the  fellowship 
of  "the  churches  was  expressed  by  Mr.  Merwin  ;  and  the  closing 
prayer  was  offered  by  Professor  Fitch. 

You  recognize  the  names  of  the  three  survivors.  President 
Day  had  then  been  at  the  head  of  the  College  less  than  eight 
years.  To-day  his  successor  has  been  in  office  more  than 
eighteen  years.  Professor  Fitch  liad  just  completed  the 
seventh  year  of  his  ministry.  He  resigned  his  charge  thirteen 
years  ago,  claiming,  after  a  longer  term  of  service  than  any  of 
his  predecessors — and  reasonably  claiming — •exemption  on 
account  of  his  advancing  age.  Dr.  Hawes  is  only  seven  years 
my  senior  in  the  ministry.  He,  too,  in  his  yet  vigorous  old 
age,  has  laid  down  all  the  responsibilities  and  burthens  of  his 
pastoral  office,  and  is  now  rejoicing  in  the  ministry  of  his  suc- 
cessor. 

There  is  no  record  by  wliich  1  can  conveniently  and  exactly 
ascertain  how  many  members  there  wei'e  in  this  church  forty 
years    ago.     In   1820,  (May  1st,)  the  number  was  three  hun- 


FORTY    YKAKS    IN    TTIE    PAHTSII.  81 

flri'd  and  sixty-tive.  The  lar<:;e  additions  of  the  two  following 
yeai's — far  exceeding  the  removals  hy  death  and  hy  dismis- 
sion— must  have  increased  the  mimher  to  about  five  hundred 
and  fifty,  in  IS^.').  Dut  of  the  entire  body  of  communicants 
at  that  time,  there  are  now  connected  with  tliis  churcli,  and 
residing  in  the  city  of  Xew  Haven,  only  forty, — of  whom  six 
are  confined  by  the  infirmities  of  age,  and  will  probably  never 
visit  this  liouse  again.  Thirty-four  only  of  the  five  hundred 
and  fifty  (or  tliereabout)  who  were  members  in  full  comnmn- 
ion  foi'ty  years  ago,  remain  now^  among  us  to  sit  down  at  the 
table  of  the  Lord.  Surely,  my  friends,  though  I  may  say  that 
you  are  dearer  to  me  than  y(»ur  fathers  and  predecessors  could 
be  with  whom  I  entered  into  this  pastoral  relation,  you  cannot 
deMV  that  it  is  time  for  me  to  count  myself  among  tlie  sur- 
vivors of  a  genei'ation  that  will  soon  have  passed  away. 

As  T  call  to  mind  the  circumstances  in  which  I  entered  on 
my  miiiistry  here.  I  cannot  l)ut  wonder  that  1  am  here  to-day. 
The  churcli.  at  that  time,  was  much  less  homogeneous  and 
united  than  it  is  now.  Less  than  twenty  years  had  ])assed 
since  the  dismission  of  Di-.  Dana,  who  had  been  conspicuous 
all  his  days,  both  here  and  in  his  earlier  pastorate  at  Walling- 
ford,  as  one  of  the  ''Old  Light''  or  "Old  Divhiity''  party — 
the  "Old  Arminians,"  as  they  were  often  called  by  way  of  re- 
proach. Under  his  ministry  there  was  little  sympathy  with 
reminiscences  of  "the  (xreat  Awakening"  in  the  time  of 
Edwai-ds.  or  with  any  measui'es  or  efforts  tending  to  a  religious 
excitement  in  tlie  community.  In  the  nineteen  years  and 
four  months  since  the  termination  of  his  ministry,  there  had 
been  two  })astorates :  that  of  Professor  Stuart,  which  contin- 
ued tlii'ee  years  and  ten  months,  and  that  of  Dr.  Taylor, 
which  continued  ten  yeai's  and  eight  months.  Those  two  men 
though  greatly  mdike  in  some  respects,  were  alike  in  this; — 
they  believed  in  tlie  revival  of  religion — they  believed  in  the 
Edwardean  or  "  New  Light  "  views  of  what  religion  is  as  a  j)er- 
sonal  experience — they  believed  in  the  distinctive  New  England 
theology — they  were  powerful  preachers,  each  in  his  own  way, 
their  sermons  beiny:  exceedinii;lv  unlike  the  cautiouslv  correct 
and  coldly  elegant  discourses  of  Di-.  Dana.  The  first  of  those 
pastors  had  commenced,  ajid  the  other  had  carried  on,  a  revo- 


82  LEONARD    BACON. 

lution  in  the  prevalent  character  and  habits  of  the  church. 
Yet,  at  the  end  of  twenty  years,  there  were  some  well  pre- 
served remains  of  what  the  old  chnrch  was  before  the  niinis- 
ti*y  of  Mr.  Stuart.  There  were  elderly  people  who  had  been 
trained  under  the  ministry  of  Dr.  Dana  and  of  his  predecessor 
Mr.  Whittelsey,  and  who  had  no  great  share  iji  the  intense  re- 
ligious activity  that  had  flamed  up  around  them— men  of 
great  worth  and  gi-eat  weight  in  the  community,  and  of  un- 
questionable character  as  Christians,  but  who  had  not  been 
accustomed  in  their  youth  to  weekly  prayer  meetings,  or  to 
evening-meetings  of  any  kind.  On  the  other  hand,  there  were 
those  who  could  hardly  conceive  of  religious  character  as  mani- 
festing itself  in  any  other  way  than  in  the  activities  of  a  gen- 
eral awakening.  In  a  church  thus  constituted,  it  was  hardly 
to  be  expected  that  a  young  Pastor,  unskillful  and  inexperi- 
enced, would  be  acceptable  to  all  parties. 

Moreover,  the  place  to  which  I  had  been  introduced  was  ex- 
ceedingly difficult  in  other  respects.  Professor  Stuart,  by  his 
earnest  and  rousing  sermons,  had  taught  the  people  not  to  be 
satisfied  with  any  preaching  but  such  as  would  make  them 
think  and  feel,  and  had  made  the  place  a  difficult  one  for  his 
successor.  Dr.  Taylor,  in  his  turn,  had  made  it  more  difficult. 
The  society  was  proud  of  having  had  two  such  Pastors  in  suc- 
cession, and  proudly  grieved  at  having  lost  them.  I  think  I 
understand  myself ;  and  I  know  it  is  not  an  affectation  of 
modesty  to  say  that  I  never  had  any  such  power  in  the  pulpit 
as  they  had  in  their  best  days.  For  many  years  after  the  com- 
mencement of  my  pastorate,  I  was  habitually  brought  into 
most  disadvantageous  comparison  not  only  with  those  dis- 
tinguished preachers,  but  with  others  of  like  celebrity.  How 
it  was  that  I  continued  here  long  enough  to  become  a  fixture, 
cannot  be  easil}'  explained.  I  only  know  that  the  congi-egation 
was  not  made  up  of  critical  hearei's  ;  tliat  the  few  who  were 
disposed  to  be  critical  and  to  find  fault  because  my  poor  dis- 
courses did  not  equal  those  of  my  predecessors,  were  not  the 
most  capable  of  forming  an  intelligent  and  judicious  opinion  ; 
and  that  those  whose  unfavorable  judgment,  had  it  been  freely 
uttered,  would  have  been  fatal  to  me,  were  very  kind. 

Nor  was  this  all  that  made  my  position  Jiere  a  trying   one. 


FORTY    YEARS    IN    THK    PARISH.  83 

The  pastorate  of  Professor  Stuart  had  been  made  memorable 
by  a  great  rebgious  revival,  the  lirst  that  had  shaken  this  coin- 
niuiiity  ill  more  than  fifty  years.  A  new  era  of  awakening 
had  opened  in  New  p]ngland  and  elsewhere.  Dr.  Taylor's 
term  of  service  was  marked  by  two  such  times  of  spiritual 
refreshing — the  last  of  which  was  just  about  coincident  with 
the  close  of  his  ministry.  This  was  in  most  respects  a  great 
advantage  to  me,  for  which  I  hope  to  be  thankful  forever. 
Hut  it  made  the  place  very  difficult  for  a  young  and  inexpe- 
rienced Pastor.  The  revival,  considered  as  a  movement  in  the 
comnmnity,  had  spent  itself  ;  and  there  were  those  in  the  con- 
gregation who  naturally  expected  the  young  ministei-  to  repro- 
duce immediately  the  excitement  which  they  had  enjoyed  so 
much,  which  bad  gathered  into  the  church  more  than  a  bun- 
dred  in  a  single  year,  and  in  which  Mr.  Nettleton,  the  famous 
revivalist,  had  employed  all  his  skill. 

I  have  mentioned  the  fact  that  a  minority  in  the  society 
voted  against  my  settlement.  Though  I  never  desired  to 
know  or  remember  who  they  were,  I  had  the  satisfaction  of 
knowing  that  most  of  them  were  soon  numbered  among  my 
kindest  friends.  Others,  who  were  at  first  among  the  most 
enthusiastic  of  my  friends,  and  whom  I  regarded  as  the  best 
and  most  active  members  of  the  Church,  were  disappointed  (as 
they  had  good  reason  to  be,)  and  began  to  think  very  seriously 
that  New  Haven  needed  a  more  efficient  ministry.  Before 
one  year  bad  been  completed,  I  began  to  be  depressed  with 
the  feeling  that  those  who  had  hoped  so  much  from  me  were 
disappointed  in  my  endeavors  to  serve  them,  and  with  the 
desponding  expectation  that  my  ministry  would  be  a  failure. 
Dear  to  me  are  the  names  of  some  whose  fatherly  counsel  and 
comfort,  and  of  others  whose  friendly  intimations  and  tokens 
of  sympathy,  kept  me  at  my  post  when  tempted  to  seek  some 
other  employment.  At  last,  just  as  the  third  year  was  closing, 
there  came  a  time  of  revival ;  and,  in  the  ensuing  year,  forty- 
eight  persons,  most  of  them  younger  than  their  youthful 
pastor,  were  received  to  communion  on  the  profession  of  their 
faith.  From  that  time  onward,  though  I  have  had  much  to 
dishearten  me  in  the  consciousness  of  falling  far  below  my 
aims  and  hopes,  and  though  I  have  not  been  left  without  my 


84  LEONARD    BACON. 

share  of  personal  and  domestic  sorrows,  my  hnrthens  have 
been  lightened  by  the  feeling  that  I  was  not  laboring  in  vain, 
as  well  .as  by  the  ever  growing  evidence  of  regard  on  the  part 
of  a  people  who  have  not  only  honored  me  for  my  work's 
sake,  but  have  loved  me  far  beyond  my  desert.  From  the 
time  of  that  iirst  distinct  and  memorable  success  in  my  minis- 
try, I  have  known  better  than  I  knew  before  how  to  preach 
the  gospel,  and  I  trust  I  am  still  learning. 

I  need  not  enumerate  here  the  various  periods  of  spiritual 
prosperity  and  progress  in  the  congregation,  which  have 
cheered  and  lightened  my  work,  and  without  which  my  min- 
istry would  have  been  a  sorrowful  failure.  (3h  that  we  might 
see  such  times  of  revival  again  before  I  shall  rest  from  these 
labors !  The  last  six  years  have  left  upon  our  records  no  traces 
of  great  success ;  and  the  thought  of  continuing  to  labor  thus 
— the  accessions  to  our  communion  hardly  keej^ing  the  nuuiber 
good — is  the  only  painful  thought  in  the  prospect  of  my  grow- 
ing old. 

An  examination  of  our  records — careful  but  not  absolutely 
exact — shows  me  that  in  these  forty  years  twelve  hundred  and 
sixty -four  members  have  been  added  to  our  conmiunion.  The 
number  received  by  profession,  six  hundred  and  -six,  is  con- 
siderably greater  than  the  whole  number  of  communicants 
either  now  or  at  the  time  of  my  installation.  Meanwhile,  we 
have  given  largely  of  our  members  to  otlier  churches  that  have 
grown  up  around  us.  T  find  the  results  of  my  ministry  not 
only  in  the  stability  and  growing  usefulness  of  this  Church, 
but  also  in  many  of  the  younger  churches.  Half  the  original 
members  of  the  Third  (,^hurch  went  from  us,  with  our  free 
consent  and  with  my  hearty  approl)ation.  Our  colored  mem- 
bers— a  very  respectable  class  in  their  religious  character — 
were  dismissed,  with  a  few  exceptions,  to  unite  with  others  of 
their  race  in  forming  the  African  (^liurch.  What  is  now  the 
(,'ollege  Street  Church  began  in  the  zeal  of  a  few  young  men, 
most  of  whom  went  from  us.  The  Chapel  Street  Church,  at 
its  beginning,  might  almost  have  been  called  a  daughter  of  the 
old  First  Church.  More  recently  the  Davenport  Church  is 
the  result  of  a  city-mission  conducted  in  our  name,  and  largely 
aided    by  oui' contributions.      Most  of   oui'  ( 'cdar    II  ill    |t;UMsh 


FOirr^"    ^'KAKS    IN    TIIK    PARISH.  85 

ionovs    went    to    the    Fair    Haven   (linrch.       Tlie   (^Inircli    at 
Westville  wa*J  formed,  mostly,  out  of  this. 

I  must  postpone  to  the  afternoon  some  tliiniis  wliich  I  had 
intended  to  say,  familiarly,  about  the  changes  which  have  been 
going  on  for  the  last  forty  years  outside  of  our  own  congrega- 
tion or  parish — in  this  city — in  our  country  at  large — and  in 
relation  to  the  general  interest  and  progress  of  Christ's  king- 
dom throughout  the  world.  But  before  I  interrupt  these 
desultory  recollections,  let  me  say  that  the  results  which  have 
come  from  this  feeble  ministry  of  mine,  are  not  summed  up  in 
the  statement  that  the  old  First  Church,  through  all  these 
years  of  change,  has  held  its  place  in  the  community  of  sister- 
churches — is  now  as  numerous  and  as  strong  as  at  any  former 
])eriod — is  firm  on  the  foundation  of  the  ancient  faith  in  Jesus 
Christ  the  Saviour  of  lost  men — is  training  up  its  children, 
as  diligently  and  as  intelligently  as  at  any  fonner  time,  in  the 
right  ways  of  the  Lord.  No,  the  records  of  this  ministry  are 
written  (for  weal  or  woe)  on  individual  minds  that  live  forever, 
and  whom  it  has  been  my  privilege  to  guide  and  strengthen, 
to  instruct  and  to  comfort,  in  life  and  in  death.  Those  records 
are  written  forever  on  minds  that  are  now  in  heaven  before 
the  throne  of  God  and  the  Lamb — on  minds  that  have  passed 
beyond  the  reach  of  hope  and  opportunity — on  minds  still  in 
this  world  of  trial  and  of  conflict ;  some,  around  me  here ; 
others  far  away  in  the  West,  or  on  the  bloody  fields  of  the 
South,  or  where  our  golden  States  look  out  on  the  Pacific,  or 
in  lands  beyond  the  sea.  Those  records  are  written  forever 
on  minds  that  have  believingly  received  the  word,  and  have 
learned  to  love  Christ  and  to  serve  him — and,  alas !  on  minds 
to  whom  the  word  of  life  is  becoming  a  savor  of  death  unto 
death,  and  whose  condemnation  will  be  that  tliey  loxed  dark- 
ness rather  than  light. 


AFTERNOON  DISCOURSE. 


rp:membkanoe  ()F  forty  years  m  other 

RELATIONS. 

I'KEACiiEi)  March  12,   18(35. 

Deut.  VIII.  2. — Thou  shai.t  kemember  all  the  way  which  the  Lord  thy 
God  led  thee  these  forty  years. 

Ill  the  iiioi'iiiiig  discourse,  I  intimated  luy  purpose  to  speak, 
this  aftemoon,  in  a  familiar  way,  concerning  some  of  the 
chano-es  whicli  have  been  going  on  around  us  within  the  last 
forty  years,  and  which  may  be  regarded  as  involving  the  pro- 
gress and  welfare,  and  the  duty  and  responsibility,  of  this 
ancient  church. 

I.  Most  naturally,  our  thoughts  turn  first  to  the  changes 
which  forty  years  have  brought  forth  In  the  <-ity  of  New 
Haven.  In  the  changes  which  our  cit}'  is  continually  under- 
o-oiiiir,  whether  for  ofood  or  for  evil,  whether  in  growth  or  in 
decay,  this  church  of  our  fathers  must  always  have  a  paro- 
chial— and  I  might  almost  say,  a  parental,  interest.  Every 
church  sustains  an  intimate  relation  to  the  local  community 
in  which  it  dwells,  and  from  which  its  interests  and  its  tirst 
duties  are  inseparable;  l)Ut  tlie  relation  of  this  church  to  Xew 
Haven  is  in  some  respects  peculiar.  Historically,  the  town 
itself,  as  an  orijanized  communitv,  is  a  dauiJ::hter  of  this  church. 
It  M'as  for  the  sake  of  ]>lanting  here  a  church  encumbered  by 
no  human  traditions,  and  de})endent  on  no  human  authority, 
that  the  founders  of  the  Xew  Haven  Colony  left  their  homes 
in  pleasant  England,  and  their  trade  and  alfairs  in  l)iisy  Loudon, 


88  LEONARD    BACON. 

and  ventured  their  all  in  the  enterjorise  of  establishing  here  a 
civil  connnonwealth  of  Christian  men,  "the  Lord's  free  peo- 
ple ;"  and  this  is  the  cluirch  which  they  planted  here  before 
their  settlement  had  even  received  an  English  name.  It  was 
far  the  sake  of  gaining  for  their  church  a  place  and  habitation, 
that  all  this  beantifnl  plain,  with  the  surrounding  hills  and 
waters,  was  purchased  of  the  savages  whom  they  found  here. 
It  was  for  the  sake  of  their  church  that  they  planned  their 
city,  and  reserved  this  central  square  for  public  uses,  first  of 
all  building  here  their  humble  temple,  and  then  making  their 
graves  around  it.  It  was  not  till  after  they  had  constituted 
their  church  by  selecting  from  among  themselves  the  seven 
men  whom  they  deemed  most  "■fit  for  the  foundation-work," 
that  their  civil  organization  was  solenmly  inaugurated,  the 
same  seven  men  being  entrusted  with  that  work  also  by  the 
free  consent  of  all  the  planters.  Such  was  the  relation  of  this 
church,  in  its  l)eginning,  to  the  civil  connnunity  which  was 
formed  around  it;  and  though  political  theories  and  arrange- 
ments, and  laws  and  forms  of  government,  have  changed,  it  has 
never  ceased  to  care  for  the  welfare  of  the  town.  Its  posi- 
tion as  a  center  from  which  Christian  influences  are  to  radiate, 
becomes  more  important  as  the  town  grows  in  population  and 
wealth,  and  in  all  those  industries  and  institutions  that  consti- 
tute its  commercial  importance  and  its  power.  If  the  future 
of  New  Haven  is  to  be  worthy  of  its  history,  those  moral  and 
religious  influences  which  the  founders  of  this  church  brought 
with  them,  and  which  have  given  character  to  so  many  genera- 
tions, must  operate  in  time  to  come  as  in  time  past. 

Forty  years  ago,  the  population  of  tlie  city  was,  by  the  tlieii 
latest  census,  7,147.  We  may  reckon  its  actual  population  in 
1825,  with  Westville  and  Fair  Haven,  as  not  mucli  more  than 
8,00(>.  Within  the  area  of  the  township,  there  were  two  (\)n- 
gregational  churches,  one  Protestant  F]piscoi)al,  one  Methodist 
Episcopal,  and  one  Baptist;  and  all  the  church-ediflces,  except 
the  Baptist,  then  recently  built,  and  only  half  as  large  as  it 
now  is,  were  on  the  Green.  Within  the  same  area,  n(nv,  there 
are  probably  50.000  iidialutants — six  times  as  many  as  there 
were  then.  The  two  (Congregational  cliurches  are  now  ten, 
with    iieai'h'   .>,500  coninmnicants ;    and    connected    with   tliese 


KORT^'     ^EAUS    JN    OTIIKH    HKl.ATK  )XS.  89 

(•liiii'clit's  there  are  tliree  eitj-mission  chapels  in  which  piililic 
worshi])  is  ivi>-uhirlv  iiiaiiitaine(h  IJesides  these  there  is  ;iii 
independent  ehui-ch  which  was  orio-inally  Congregational  in 
its  government.  Thei-e  are  also  seven  Pi'otestant  Ei)isco])al 
chnrches  with  one  mission  chapel, — six  Methodist  Ki)iscoj);d 
chnrches.  inclnding  their  (iernian  mission,— and  three  l)a])tist 
churches.  In  addition  to  all  these,  we  have  a  (lei'man  Moi'a- 
\  ian  church  ;  a  small  (xerman  Baptist  church  ;  a  Univei-salist 
chni'ch  ;  three  large  Roman  (^atholic  clinrclies,  filled  to  over- 
Howino'  with  coni>;rei»:ations  of  emii>:rants  and  childi-en  of  ciiii- 
grants  from  Roman  (yatholic  countries;  and  iinally,  a  svna- 
gogne  of  German-speaking  Jews.  If  an  intelligent  person  liad 
fallen  asleep  in  I^ew  Haven  forty  years  ago,  and  had  waked 
np  this  morning,  he  Avould  hardly  have  known  the  place. 
Sudi  a  man,  waking  after  forty  years  of  unconsciousness, 
would  he  confounded.  In  the  jangle  of  the  sahhath-hells. 
sounding  from  so  many  towers,  he  would  be  lost;  n(»r  would 
he  find  himself  till  he  should  h)ok  upon  this  Public  S()uai-e. 
Here,  in  the  aspect  of  these  three  churches,  side  by  side,  he 
would  see  the  old  Xew  Haven  (jnce  so  familiar  to  his  view. 

We  need  only  ctmnt  up,  by  name,  these  places  of  worship, — ■ 
C(3mparing  the  jH'esent  time,  in  that  respect,  with  forty  years 
ago, — and  we  realize  how  great  a  change  has  come  to  pass.  It 
is  not  merely  that  what  was  then  little  more  than  a  pleasant 
village,  though  dignified  with  the  name  and  charter  of  a  city, 
has  now  grown  to  be  larger  than  any  city  in  Kew  England 
then  was ;  it  is  not  merely  that  tlie  streets  which  were  then  so 
(juiet  are  now  crowded  and  noisy  with  business ;  it  is  not 
merely  that  the  place  has  become  a  great  hive  of  manufac- 
turing industry;  it  seems  almost  as  if  New  Haven  liad  l)een 
detached  from  the  old  Puritan  State  of  Connecticut,  and  had 
been  anchored  by  some  foreign  shore.  The  population  here, 
forty  years  ago,  was  of  purely  English  descent,  and  T  think 
I  may  say  that,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  colored  people, 
there  were  not  twenty  families  here  whose  ancestors  did  not 
come  over  with  the  first  settlers  of  New  England.  But  where 
are  we  now  i  Strangers  of  other  races,  and  of  other  languages 
and  traditions, — the  Celt,  the  German,  and  the  Jew, — attracted 
by  the  liberty  which  our  fathers  achieved  for  us,  have  come  in. 


90  F.EONARD    BACON. 

l)y  thousands,  to  share  our  inheritance,  and  to  niin«;le  tlieir  des- 
tiny with  onrs. 

Snch  changes  in  the  city,  and  es])eciall_v  in  tlie  chai-acter  of 
its  population,  cannot  liave  taken  place  without  inci-easing 
gi'eatly  the  resp(»nsibility  of  the  2sew  Haven  chui'clies  as  local 
institutions.  What  was  tlie  local  or  jiarochial  work  of  our  two 
rVmgregational  churches  forty  years  ago,  compared  with  what 
the  Congregational  clnirches  in  T^ew  Haven,  (not  to  mention 
those  of  other  names  and  forms,  but  of  like  precious  faith), 
ought  to  be  doing  now  ^  The  time  will  not  permit  me  to 
dwell  upon  this  thought.  None  who  hear  me  can  fail  to  dis- 
cern something  at  least  of  its  signilicance.  In  this  respect,  tlie 
change  which  the  last  forty  years  have  made  is  greater  than 
all  that  came  to  pass  in  the  foregoing  centui-y.  Thus  measured, 
the  distance  between  this  day  and  the  beginning  of  my  ministi-y 
here  is  greater  than  the  distance  between  1825  and  1725. 

Other  changes  have  taken  place  here,  which  have  great  sig- 
uiiicance.  Forty  years  ago,  IS^ew  Haven  had  really  no  system 
of  public  schf)ols.  The  Lancasterian  school,  in  the  basement  of 
the  Methodist  church  on  the  Green,  was  the  only  comni<m 
school  worth  naming ;  and  that  was  a  school  for  l)oys  alone,  the 
Lancasterian  school  f<»r  girls  not  having  l)een  established.  In 
all  the  city  there  was  no  such  edifice  as  a  school-house  for  the 
common  schools.  A  few  district-schools,  taught  by  women,  in 
hired  apartments,  were  sustained  partly  by  dividends  from  the 
school-fund,  and  partly  by  a  petty  charge  for  tuition.  But 
now  the  common  schools  of  New  Haven,  distributed  through- 
out the  city,  and  provided  with  conmiodious  and  stately  houses 
built  expressly  for  .their  use,  are  almost  a  university  of  them- 
selves,— the  people's  university.  Free  (in  theory)  to  all  the 
children  of  the  city,  as  the  highways  are  free  to  all  travelers, 
they  exceed  in  the  variety  and  extent  of  their  teaching,  and  in 
the  thoroughness  of  their  discipline,  all  that  I  dared  to  ho])e 
for,  when,  on  the  iirst  Thanksgiving-day  after  my  installation, 
I  attempted  to  give  some  views  of  what  connnon  schools  ought 
to  be.  At  that  time,  my  views,  as  I  found  reas(m  to  believe, 
were  deemed  chimerical  by  practical  men,  but  now  they  are 
more  than  realized  in  almost  every  particular.  Nay,  so  high 
are  the  aims  of  the  system  now  in   operation,   that    there   is 


FoHTV     VKAKS    IN    OTllKH    KKLAl'K  )NS.  91 

(lander  of  its  Icaviiiu'  out  of  view  the  iiittst  im[)ortaiit  reason 
for  its  own  existence,  namely,  tlu'  duty  of  the  State  to  take 
care  effectually  tliat  no  i)ortio]i  of  its  population  shall  sink  into 
l)aH)arisiu,  and,  therefore,  to  take  care  that  no  child  in  the  com- 
ninnity  shall  he  ])(,'nnitted  to  o-row  up  without  the  rudiments, 
at  leasl.  of  a  civilizing  education.  What  we  most  need,  just 
now,  is  not  In'ohci-  and  hetter  schools  for  the  l)enetit  of  such 
families  as  are  ahle  and  willing-  to  make  use  of  them,  hut  some 
adequate  provision  foi*  the  henetit  of  children  whom  our  admii-- 
able  system,  as  now  administered,  does  not  reach, — some 
arrangement  that  shall  include  the  children  who  are  now  ex- 
cluded, because,  in  the  extreme  poverty  of  theii-  homes,  they 
cannot  comply  with  existing  regulations, — some  arrangement 
that  shall  take  hold  of  the  neglected  children  in  our  streets, 
tliose  young  mendicants  that  are  growing  into  thieves,  those 
hoys  that  are  growing  up  to  he  I'uffians  and  burglars,  those 
wi-etched  girls  whose  prospect  in  life  is  misery. and  infamy. 
Fortv  years  ago,  that  stratum  in  society  whicli  now  lies  below 
the  reach  of  oni-  connnon  schools,  hardly  existed  here.  At 
most  it  was  too  inconsidci'able  to  be  dangerous.  But  now,  in 
the  confluence  of  nations  and  religions  which  swells  our  popu- 
lation, the  danger  is  t-oo  great  to  l)e  neglected. 

Think  of  another  change.  Forty  years  ago  the  vice  of 
intemperance,  engendered  and  perpetuated  by  the  common  use 
of  intoxicating  liquors  for  refreshment  and  conviviality,  had 
never  received  any  serious  check  in  this  community.  The 
moderate  drinking  of  such  liquors  was  a  universal  fashion. 
At  that  time  the  mischievousness  of  the  fashion  was  hardly 
suspected.  Certainly  the  o})vious  and  unfailing  tendency  of 
moderate  drinking  to  become,  in.  multitudes  of  instances, 
innnoderate,  had  never  been  adequately  impressed  upon  the 
public.  The  di-in king-usage  was  everywhere,  and  everywhere 
the  fashion  was  as  despotic  in  its  demands  as  it  was  pei-ilous  in 
its  tendency.  None  could  abstain  from  the  personal  use  of 
those  liquors,  without  incuri-ing  the  reproach  of  eccentricity 
and  perhaps  of  moroseness.  Not  to  offer  sucli  i-efreshment  in 
ordinary  hospitality  seemed  inhospitable  and  niggardly.  On 
the  occasion  of  my  installation,  a  public  dinner  was  of  course 
])rovided  for  the    council  and    attending  clergymen,  together 


92  LEONARD    BACOK. 

with  the  officers  of  the  chiireli  and  society  ;  and  there  was  an 
ample  supply  not  only  of  wine  l)ut  also  of  more  perilous  stnlf. 
]  also  remember  that,  two  months  later,  when  I  attended  for 
the  first  time  a  meeting  of  the  Associated  Pastors  of  the  dis- 
trict, the  sideboard  of  good  father  Swift,  at  whose  house  we 
met,  was  decorated  with  decanters  containing  distilled  spirits, 
and  of  more  than  one  kind.  But  that  very  year  the  C^hristian 
duty  of  voluntary  abstinence  as  an  expedient  against  the  ten- 
dency to  intemperance,  and  of  cond)ining,  by  mutual  pledges, 
to  break  the  power  of  a  tyrannical  fashion,  l)egan  to  be  recog- 
nized by  CJhristian  men,  and  thencefoi-ward  such  means  of 
refreshment  disappeared  from  ordination-dinners  and  all  cleri- 
cal meetings.  In  a  little  while  the  tyrannical  fashion  had  lost 
its  poW'Cr.  Every  man  was  at  lil)ertv  to  practice  personal 
abstinence,  either  for  his  own  safety  oi-  for  the  sake  of  saving 
others;  and  there  was  no  law  of  hospitality  requiring  any  man 
to  tempt  his.  guests  by  inviting  them  to  drink  with  him.  I 
need  not  say  how  much  good  was  gained  in  those  early  years  of 
the  temperance-reformation  ;  nor  need  I  say  that  the  liberty 
which  w^as  then  achieved  remains  to  this  day.  Yet  it  nmst  be 
confessed  that,  within  the  last  few  years,  much  has  been  lost. 
We  had  gained  some  measure  of  safety  for  our  young  men.  1 
may  even  say  that  the  convivial  use  of  wine  and  spirituous 
liquors  had  become  unfashionable,  at  least  in  the  l)etter  classes 
of  society.  Much  has  been  lost  fn  these  respects.  I^^ever  were 
young  men,  in  this  city,  more  beset  than  now  witli  temptati(^ns 
to  intemperance,  and  to  the  vices  which  accompany  intemper- 
ance ;  and,  so  far  as  my  opportunities  of  observation  have 
informed  me,  the  old  fashion  of  introducing  intoxicating  drinks 
for  conviviality  in  social  entertainments  is  reviving.  Partly 
this  may  be  a  natural  reaction  against  the  attempt  to  propagate 
extreme  opinions,  and  to  enforce  them  by  denunciation  ;  but  in 
no  small  part  it  is  the  result  of  ill  advised  and  impracticable 
legislation.-  One  consequence  of  the  latest  law  enacted  in  this 
State  against  the  sale  of  intoxicating  liquors,  was  the  establish- 
ment of  private  club-rooms,  wliere  young  men — and  some  who 
are  not  young — train  themselves  and  each  other  int(^  habits  of 
intemperate  drinking.  I  could  tell  you  of  one  such  club- — 
what  its  chosen  name  is,  I  do  not  know,  but   T   could  tell  you 


KORTY    YEARS    IN    OTHER    RELATIONS.  98 

where  its  rooms  are — a  chil).  some  of  whose  members  luive 
(lied  ah-eady  of  the  habits  wliicli  they  formed  or  in(hil<>ed  and 
strengthened  in  those  secret  apartments,  while  otliers.  warned 
in  vain  by  what  they  liave  seen,  are  going  on  to  the  same  fate. 
The  liistory  of  the  temperance-reformation  in  its  origin  and 
progress,  and  in  its  histing  snccess,  is  fnli  of  encoui-agement, 
and,  on  the  otlier  hand,  the  history  of  its  reactions  and  declen- 
sions is  fnll  of  admonition. 

II.  Let  ns  n(^w  look  l)eyond  t)ui-  immediate  neighborhood, 
and  think  of  onr  relations  to  t/x'  country  at  Im'ge.  The  New 
New  England  Churches  have  always  been  characterized  by  a 
patriotic  spirit.  When  the  English  exiles  at  Leyden  passed 
ovei-  to  America  and  ('ommenced  their  settlement  at  Ply- 
month,  there  was  planted,  on  ''the  wild  New  England  shore,'' 
the  seed  not  only  of  a  (Christian  civilization,  bnt  of  a  nation- 
ality distinct  from  that  of  the  English  people.  That  seed, 
planted  in  weakness,  might  have  been  ti'odden  down  and  des- 
troyed :  bnt  when  the  Pilgrims  were  followed  across  the 
Atlantic  by  the  great  Pnritan  migration  from  old  England  ; 
when  the  towns  on  Massachnsetts  Bay,  and  the  tow^ns  on  (Jon- 
necticnt  river,  and  then  the  confederate  towns  of  the  New 
Haven  jurisdiction,  came  into  being  as  political  communities 
sharing  in  the  life  and  n^olded  by  the  power  of  that  religious 
polity  which  English  monarchy  and  English  aristocracy  would 
not  tolerate ;  it  became  certain  that  there  was  to  be  here,  in 
the  fullness  of  time,  a  nation  not  simply  English  but  Anglo- 
American,  a  nation  with  its  own  distinctive  character  and  life. 
Most  naturally,  therefore,  the  churches  of  the  New  England 
polity  have  been  characterized,  through  all  their  history,  by  a 
patriotic  sympathy  with  the  growth  and  welfare  of  this  great 
Anglo-American  nation ;  and  looking  l)ack,  as  we  do,  on  this 
occasion,  to  a  date  just  five  days  after  the  inauguration  of 
John  Quincy  Adams,  it  is  natural  for  us  to  ask  what  changes 
these  forty  years  have  wrought  in  our  country,  and  in  the 
Christian  work  which  the  churches  have  been  doing  and  are 
yet  to  do  for  the  nation. 

Forty  years  ago  the  United  States  w'ere  twenty-four  in  num- 
ber ;  now  they  are  thirty-six.  Then  only  one  State  had  been 
established    beyond    the    Mississippi ;    now   there    are    three 


94  LEONARD    BACON. 

beyond  the  Roekv  Mountains.  Then,  in  the  tifth  year  after 
the  census  of  1820,  the  population  of  the  United  States  was 
estimated  at  eleven  millions ;  now,  in  the  fifth  year  after  the 
census  of  1860,  it  cannot  well  be  estimated  at  much  less  than 
thirty-five  millions.  Such  are  some  of  the  most  obvious 
changes  which  our  country  has  undergone  since  I  began  my 
work — changes  which  mark  and  measure  the  steady  progress  of 
the  nation  in  material  greatness. 

In  this  connection  we  cannot  but  remember  that,  forty  years 
ago,  there  were  in  the  United  States  about  one  million  and 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  slaves,  and  that  the  census  of 
1860  gave  the  number  at  a  little  less  than  four  millions.  When 
1  began  my  work  in  this  place,  the  country  had  recently  ])een 
agitated  by  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  secure  the  abolition  of 
slavery  in  JVIissoui'i  before  the  admission  of  that  State  into  the 
Union.  At  that  time,  the  religious  feeling  of  the  country  was 
strongly,  and,  I  may  say,  unanimously  pronounced  against  the 
institution  of  slavery.  Religious  men,  even  in  the  slave-hold- 
ing States,  professed  to  regard  that  institution  as  an  evil  which 
was  to  be  endured  till  it  could  be  peacefully  and  safely  abol- 
ished. Certainly  there  was,  in  Connecticut,  no  party,  religioils 
or  political,  that  dared  to  speak  for  slavery  as  if  it  were  a  just 
or  beneficent  arrangement,  or  as  if  the  institution  was  capable 
of  any  defense,  either  on  grounds  of  natural  justice,  or  in  the 
light  of  the  (Christian  religion.  Slavery  and  the  internal  com- 
merce in  slaves  were  then  regarded  as  "  the  peculiar  institution  " 
of  those  States  in  which  they  were  legalized ;  and  the  idea  that 
the  Constitution  of  the  Union  had  made  slavery  national,  and 
had  given  it  a  right  to  propagate  itself  without  let  or  hindrance 
over  all  the  national  territory,  had  found  no  acceptance  her^. 

My  own  mind  had  been  deeply  interested  in  the  discussion 
of  slavery  as  related  to  the  future  of  our  country.  The  Mis- 
souri question  had  been  sharply  debated  in  Congress  and  every- 
where else,  while  I  was  a  college-student ;  and  by  religious 
writers  and  speakers  it  had  been  discussed  as  a  question  involv- 
ing great  religious  interests.  In  the  j^rogress  of  my  theological 
studies,  T  have  been  led  to  inquire  more  carefully  concerning 
the  duty  of  Christian  patriots  to  the  l)lack  poindation  of  this 
country,  both  ])ond  and  fi-ee.      1^'roni  the  beginning  of  my  offi- 


KOR'I^      ^"KAKS    IN    (•TirKK'    1{  Kl.ATloXS.  9.> 

cial  iiiiiiistrv.  I  s|)ukt'  without  rcscrvi'.  tVmii  the  j)ul])it  and 
elsewhere,  against  slaxcrv  as  a  wroiit;'  and  a  curse,  tlnvatcnin^ 
disaster  and  ruin  to  the  nation,  ^^any  years  I  did  tiiis  without 
heinu'  hlanied.  except  as  1  was  hhiined  foi'  not  i^oingfar  enough. 
Not  a  dog  dared  to  wag  his  tongue  at  me  for  s]K'aking  against 
slavery.  I  liave  ahvays  hehl  and  always  asserted  the  same  pi-in- 
ci])les  on  that  sul)ject  wliich  1  held  and  asserted  at  the  begin- 
ning. Yet  you  know  how  J  have  been  l)lamed  and  even 
execrated,  in  these  later  years,  t'oi-  declaring,  heiv  and  else- 
where, the  wickedness  of  buying  and  selling  human  beings,  or 
of  violating  in  any  way  those  human  rights  which  are  insepar- 
al)le  from  Iniman  nature.  I  make  no  complaint  in  making  this 
allusion  ;  all  reproaches,  ^1  insults  endured  in  the  conflict  with 
so  gigantic  a  wickedness  against  God  and  man,  are  to  be 
received  and  remembered  not  as  injuries  l)nt  as  honors. 

Where  are  we  now  i  The  institution  of  slavery,  so  powerful 
only  a  few  years  ago,  so  arrogant  and  encroaching,  so  deter- 
mined either  to  rule  the  Union  or  to  destroy  it,  is  perishing 
nnder  the  vials  of  God's  wrath  poured  out  upon  our  country. 
The  end  of  the  great  rebellion  which  was  begun  for  tlie  pur- 
pose of  making  slavery  perpetual,  is  drawing  near,  and  it  is 
sure  to, be  the  end  of  slavery.  What  a  change  is  this  I  I  have 
expected  and  predicted  that  slavery  would  be  abolished  in  our 
country,  knowing  assuredly  that  there  is  a  divine  justice  in 
the  providence  that  rules  the  world.  There  was  a  time  when  I 
hoped  for  a  j^eaceful  abolition  in  the  progress  of  civilization 
and  under  the  influence  of  Christianity ;  but,  years  ago,  the 
ferocious  tyranny  that  permitted  no  word  of  discussion  or  of 
inquiry  tending  to  overthrow  the  system,  and  that  kept  the 
slaves  by  law  in  brutish  ignorance  so  that  their  bondage  might 
be  perpetual,  forbade  that  hope.  For  years,  all  really  thought- 
ful men  have  felt  the  growing  probability  that  slavery  would 
end  in  l)lood.  Yet,  till  this  war  began,  we  never  thought  that 
the  end  wotdd  be  in  our  time.  That  1  have  lived  to  see 
slavery  already  virtually  abolished,  and  its  complete  extinction 
drawing  nearer  every  day,  tills  me  with  wonder. 

Somewhat  less  than  twenty  years  ago,  I  pul)lished  a  volume 
of  Essays  on  Slavery,  which  T  had  contributed  to  various  peri- 
odicals.    A  copy  of  the  volume  fell  into  the  hands  of  a  village 


96  LEONARD    BACON. 

lawyer  in  one  of  our  great  western  States.  He  was  at  that 
time  quite  unknown  to  fame,  but  his  neighbors  knew  him  well 
as  an  intelligent,  sagacious,  honest  man,  capable  of  great  things 
and  worthy  of  the  highest  trusts ;  and  he  had  just  then  been 
elected,  for  the  first  time  and  the  last,  to  be  their  representa- 
tive in  C^ongress.  Less  than  four  years  ago,  not  knowing  that 
he  had  ever  heard  of  me,  I  had  the  privilege  of  an  interview 
with  him ;  and  his  first  word,  after  our  introduction  to  each 
other,  was  a  reference  to  tliat  volume,  with  a  frank  aj)proval  of 
its  principles.  Since  then  I  have  heard  of  his  mentioning  the 
same  book  to  a  friend  of  mine  in  terms  which  showed  that  it 
had  made  an  impression  on  his  earnest  and  thoughtful   soul. 

The  man  to  whom  I  refer  has  just  been  inaugurated,  the 
second  time.  President  of  the  United  States  ;  and  his  illus- 
trious name  is  forever  associated  with  the  proclamation  which 
sealed  the  doom  of  slavery.  I  am  not  vain  enough  to  think 
that  his  great  mind,  so  earnest  in  the  love  of  justice,  so  confi- 
dent in  the  conviction  that  right  must  finally  prevail  against 
wrong,  so  far-seeing  in  the  discernment  of  princijjles  and  their 
bearings,  needed  any  guidance  or  teaching  from  me ;  but  it  is 
something  to  think  of  in  this  review  of  forty  years,  that  when 
Abraham  Lincoln,  nineteen  years  ago,  first  found  himself, 
as  an  elected  representative  in  Congress,  face  to  face  with 
slavery  in  its  relation  to  questions  of  practical  statesmanshi]), 
the  studies  and  debates  through  which  I  had  been  conducted 
were  in  any  way  serviceable  to  liim. 

As  we  think  of  the  new  aspect  which  the  abolition  of 
slavery,  now  almost  complete,  gives  to  the  future  of  our  coun- 
try, the  home-missionary  work  of  the  American  churches 
arrests  our  attention.  It  was  in  the  year  1825  that  consulta- 
tions were  held,  and  arrangements  made,  which  resulted  in  the 
institution  of  the  American  Home  Missionary  Society.  That 
organization  was  formed  with  the  design  of  combining  in  one 
system  of  cor)perative  efforts  the  strength  of  the  entire  Presby- 
terian body,  and  of  some  other  ecclesiastical  connections,  as 
well  as  of  the  New  England  churches.  At  first  the  design  of 
co(>peration  was  in  some  degree  realized  ;  but,  gradually,  the 
contributing  churches  of  other  denominations  and  connections 
have  fallen  off  and  entered  into  sei3arate  enterprises,  till  now 


FORTY   YEARS    IX    OTHER   RELATIONS.  97 

the  institution  can  hardly  he  said  to  have  any  siij)j)orters  save 
the  Cono-reo-ational  chuivhes  in  New  Eno-land,  and  those  that 
have  sprung  np  in  New  Yfij'k  and  the  West.  How  great  the 
home-missionary  work  in  the  United  States  lias  l)eeome,  and 
what  hokl  it  lias  npon  the  (Christian  patriotism  of  the  country, 
I  need  not  undertake  to  show  statistically.  Aside  from  all 
that  is  done  hy  the  two  great  bodies  of  Presbyterians,  and  by 
the  churches  which  trace  their  descent  from  Holland,  and  by 
other  excellent  and  pow^erful  confederations  of  cluirches  more 
remotely  related  to  us,  the  work  of  the  American  Home  Mis- 
sionary Society,  in  the  area  which  it  covers,  in  the  contribu- 
tions to  its  treasury,  in  the  number  of  its  missionaries,  and  in 
the  success  which  it  has  achieved  and  is  still  achieving,  far 
exceeds  all  that  we  thought  of  forty  years  ago.  Its  mission- 
aries, are,  to-day,  not  only  in  all  the  States  of  what  we  then 
called  "  the  West " — not  only  in  all  the  regions  of  that  "  val- 
ley of  the  Mississippi "  which  so  filled  our  imagination  thirty 
years  ago — but  far  beyond,  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  by  the 
Great  Salt  Lake,  and  amid  the  strange  confluences  of  popula- 
tion that  are  developing  the  resources  of  our  Paciiic  States. 

But  home-missions  in  the  strictest  sense  are  onl}^  a  part  of 
the  evangelization- work  in  our  home-field.  In  the  larger 
sense,  all  the  organizations  wdiich  are  at  work  for  the  dift'usion 
of  religious  knowledge,  or  for  securing  in  the  new  States  and 
Territories  the  institutions  of  Christian  learning  and  educa- 
tion, are  cooperating  in  the  home-missionary  work.  Forty 
years  ago,  the  American  Bible  Society  had  not  entered  on  the 
tenth  year  of  its  existence.  Forty  years  ago,  the  American 
Tract  Society  at  Boston  had  been  working  in  a  humble  way 
about  eleven  years ;  and  just  at  the  time  when  I  was  beginning 
my  official  ministry  here,  a  few  good  men  of  various  ecclesias- 
tical connections  were  instituting  in  the  city  of  New  York 
another  American  Tract  Society  much  more  asjjiring  in  its 
aims.  Forty  years  ago,  the  American  Sunday  School  Union 
was  making  its  earliest  appeals  to  the  public.  Forty  years 
ago,  nobody  had  dreamed  of  any  such  thing  as  a  systematized 
eiiort  on  the  part  of  Cliristian  patriots  in  these  older  States  for 
promoting  collegiate  and  theological  education  at  the  West,  by 
aiding  in   the  foundation  and   early  support  of  colleges  and 


98  LEONARD    BAGOX. 

theological  seminaries  like  tliose  of  our  own  New  England. 
These  suggestions  may  helj^  the  jonng  to  understand,  in  part, 
what  changes  some  of  us  have  seen  since  the  time  when  we 
were  young.  You  whose  years  are  yet  before  you,  think  how 
great  a  system  of  voluntary  enterprises,  for  giving  to  our 
country  a  thoroughly  Christian  civilization,  we  have  seen  grow- 
ing up  in  our  day.  We  are  soon  to  leave  in  your  hands  the 
l)eneficent  undertakings  which  we  have  helped  to  inaugurate, 
or  in  which  it  has  been  our  privilege  to  cooperate,  and  we  bid 
you  remember  that,  with  all  their  efficiency,  they  are  not  yet 
commensurate  with  the  work  of  making  our  country  what  it 
ought  to  be. 

Think  of  the  new  era  which  is  to  open  upon  us  when  this 
war  shall  be  ended.  With  slavery  overthrown,  and  the  unity 
of  the  nation  recovered  and  vindicated,  the  millions,  black  and 
white,  whom  slavery  has  kept  in  a  bai'barous  or  half  barbarous 
ignorance,  will  have  become  in  reality,  and  not  in  name  only, 
our  countrymen,  to  be  enlightened  and  elevated  by  Christian 
influences.  Thenceforth  the  necessity  of  guarding  the  institu- 
tion of  slavery  l)y  laws  against  teaching  men  to  read,  and  by 
the  violent  suppression  of  dangerous  truth,  will  have  no  place 
in  any  State  or  Territory  of  the  Union,  but  our  whole  country, 
in  its  imperial  extent,  will  be  open  to  that  free  gospel  which 
proclaims  that  God  hath  made  of  one  blood  all  nations  of  men, 
and  which  demands  for  all  men  "  the  Bible  without  a  clasp," 
and  therefore  demands  and  establishes  the  free  schools  in 
which  all  children  alike  may  learn  to  read  the  Bible  for  them- 
selves. A  great  work  of  evangelization  mnst  be  done  for  our 
country  within  the  next  twenty  years.  All  that  has  been  done 
in  these  forty' years  is  only,  as  it  were,  a  preparation  and  a 
beginning.  God,  who  has  ti-ained  us  for  the  work,  and  has 
encouraged  and  strengthened  us  by  gi^'ing  success,  is  now  open- 
ing the  way  and  calling  us  forward  to  a  glorious  consummation. 

III.  Our  remembrance  of  the  period  which  w^e  are  reviewing 
will  not  be  comjjlete  unless  we  take  a  still  wider  view. 
Through  all  the  course  of  these  forty  years,  changes  have  been 
steadily  and  rapidly  going  on,  that  have  g]*eat  importance  in 
relation  to  the  general  interest  and  progress  of  Chris  fs  h'ingdom 
in  the  world.     I  do  not  refer  to  wars  and  political  revolutions, 


KOHTV     VKAKS    fX    oTHEH    HKLATIOXS.  99 

so  iiiiR'h  as  t<»  c'liaiij^cs  ot  another  sort.  The  period  has  l)een 
cliaracterized  more  by  tlie  peaceful  ])rogre88of  civilized  nations 
than  bv  great  wars  among  them  ;  and,  though  there  have  been 
changes  of  dynasty  and  of  empire — some  of  them  very  signifi- 
cant— the  political  map  of  Europe  at  least  remains,  on  the 
whole,  very  much  as  it  was  in  1825.  But,  all  this  while, 
great  forces  have  l)cen  Avorking  to  change  the  character  and 
condition  of  the  world. 

We  have  often  marveled  at  the  increase  of  human  knowl- 
edge, and  es])ecially  of  that  knowledge  by  which  man  obtains 
dominion  over  material  nature  ;  but  the  general  diffusion  of 
knowledge  is,  in  some  respects  even  more  significant.  The 
a})paratus  and  arrangements  by  which  knowledge — and,  to  a 
great  extent,  knowledge  really  useful — spreads  itself  abroad, 
the  demand  creating  the  supply,  and  the  supply  ever  stimula- 
ting the  demand,  is  among  the  wonders  of  modern  civilization. 
Think  what  the  art  of  printing  has  become  in  its  relation  to 
the  millions.  Think  of  journalism,  in  its  range  of  subjects, 
scientific,  literary,  political,  religious, — in  the  diversity  of  its 
periods,  quarterly,  monthly,  weekly,  daily, — and  with  its  count- 
less pages  falling  everywhere,  like  autumn-leaves  in  a  forest. 
Think  what  popular  education  has  become,  not  satisfied  with 
teaching  children  to  read  and  write,  but  aiming  to  give  sub- 
stantial knowledge,  with  something  of  intellectual  and  moral 
discipline.  Doubtless  such  diffusion  of  knowledge  is  more 
general  in  our  country  than  elsewhere ;  but  in  almost  every 
country  of  the  civilized  world,  certainly  in  every  Protestant 
country,  there  is  the  same  sort  of  progress. 

Another  significant  fact  is  naturally  connected  with  the  in- 
crease and  diffusion  of  knowledge.  The  mutual  influence  of 
all  civilized  connuunities  is  constantly  increasing.  Forty  years 
ago.  the  seas  and  mountains  by  which  nations  are  separated 
from  each  other,  and  still  more  the  diversities  of  language 
and  of  political  and  religious  institutions,  were  far  more  effect- 
ual as  barriers  against  international  influence  and  international 
sympathy  than  they  now  are,  or  ever  can  be  again.  Every  civ- 
ilized nation  is  now  in  contact,  as  it  were,  with  every  othei\ 
Not  (mly  do  the  scientific  discoveries  and  inventions  of  one 
country  ])ass  out  at  once  int(»  all  countries,  and  become  the  com- 


100  LEONARD    BACON. 

mon  property  of  civilized  mankind  ;  but  the  hooks  which  in 
one  language  charm  or  agitate  the  poj)iilar  mind,  are  translated 
into  other  languages,  or  without  translation  extend  their  influ- 
ence into  other  lands.  Not  popular  literature  only,  but  phi- 
losophy also,  learns,  more  than  heretofore,  to  utter  itself  in  vari- 
ous languages.  The  thinking  of  Germany  passes  over  into 
Britain  and  America  ;  and  the  thinking  of  English-speaking 
nations  reacts  upon  Germany.  With  the  increase  of  facilities 
for  travel  in  these  years  of  peace  and  commerce,  every  nation 
comes  more  and  more  into  contact  wath  other  nations  by  means 
of  personal  communication.  Travelers  and  tourists  of  all  sorts, 
seekers  of  knowledge  and  seekers  of  pleasure,  are  going  abroad 
into  all  lands,  sojourning  here  and  there  for  a  season,  and  then 
returning  home.  Great  tides  of  emigration  are  setting  from 
various  nations  of  the  old  world  to  our  shores ;  and  then,  by 
international  postage  and  ocean-steamers,  those  Americarized 
myriads  keep  up  a  constant  interchange  of  influence  between 
the  land  of  their  new  hopes  and  homes  and  the  lands  from  which 
they  came.  Among  all  the  nations  of  the  civilized  world,  and 
especially  among  those  of  Protestant  Christendom,  thei'e  is  a 
growing  consciousness  of  more  intimate  relations  to  each  other 
and  of  interest  in  each  other's  welfare.  Perhaps  no  man  who 
does  not  personally  remember  the  time  when  there  were  no 
railways  and  no  sea-going  steamships  to  facilitate  and  stimulate 
international  communication,  and  when  the  magnetic  telegraph 
had  not  yet  been  invented,  can  fairly  understand  how  great  a 
change  has  come  to  pass  in  the  intercourse  of  nations,  in  their 
knowledge  of  each  otheir's  affairs,  and  in  their  mutual  influence. 
One  marked  consequence  of  all  this,  is  an  increased  acquaint- 
ance and  a  more  intimate  fellowshi])  among  the  Protestant 
Christians  of  different  nations  and  languages.  There  is  begin- 
ning to  be  visible  a  reformed  and  evangelical  catholicity,  ex- 
tending through  all  nations,  and  everywhere  conscious  of  a 
living  unity.  Evangelical  Christians  every  where  are  becoming 
assimilated  in  their  religious  views  and  teachings,  and  thus 
they  are  obtaining  larger  and  more  adecjuate  conce])tioiis  of 
what  the  Christianity  is  which  they  hold  in  common,  and  which 
they  uphold  against  superstition  and  spiritual  despotism  on  the 
one  hand,  and  against  infldelity  and  destructive  rationalism  oii' 
the   other.     There  is  indeed  no  "gift  of  tongues"    like    tliat 


Ff)RTY    VKAHS    IN    OTHER    WEI-ATIONS.  MM 

vvhicli  attested  the  first  <:;l()ri«»us  couiiii*!;  of  tlie  Comforter;  but 
Cliristiiin  sN'inpatliies  are  awakened  which  utter  theiiiselveK, 
praying  and  praising (Tod,  in  all  the  languages  of  tlie  civilized 
world,  and  which  j^ass  from  land  t<t  land,  and  traverse  oceans, 
with  greetings  of  brcttherly  affection.  We  see  not  indeed — 
nor  need  we  desire  to  see — a  corporate  unity  under  one  ecclesi- 
astical government  ;  hut  we  see  what  is  better,  a  spii-itual 
unity  of  aspiration  and  of  vohmtary  coiiperation  for  tlie  ad- 
vancement of  that  kingdom  which  is  "  righteousness,  and  peace, 
and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost."  A  few  years  ago,  it  was  my  priv- 
ilege to  be  present,  for  many  days,  in  a  great  assembly  at  Lon- 
don, where  representatives  not  only  from  Great  Britain  and 
Ireland  and  from  the  United  States,  but  fi-om  (Germany, 
from  France,  from  Holland,  from  Switzerland,  from  Scandina- 
vian countries,  from  the  Pi'otestantism  of  Italy,  and  from  I 
know  not  how  many  other  countries,  were  reporting  to  each 
other  concerning  the  signs  of  the  times,  and  deliberating  on 
plans  of  more  extended  cooperation,  and  praying  together  for 
tlie  universal  coming  of  tlie  kingdom  of  God.  The  great 
asvsembly  was  itself  a"  sign  of  the  times" — an  effective  manifes- 
tation not  only  of  the  progress  which  spiritual  Ghristianity,  as 
distinguished  both  from  formalism  and  from  unbelieving 
rationalism,  is  making  in  the  world,  but  also  of  the  vital  unity 
and  free  co('>peration  which  are  bringing  into  conscious  fellow- 
ship the  growing  multitude  of  believers  in  whose  conception 
and  experience  the  Gospel  is  "  the  power  of  God  unto  salva- 
tion." Forty  years  ago  such  an  assembly  could  not  have 
been  ;  and  yet,  so  great  is  the  change,  that  assembly,  though 
the  first  of  its  kind,  was  only  first  in  a  series. 

While  these  changes  have  been  in  progress,  l)reaking  down 
so  many  of  the  barriers  between  nations,  and  bringing  evan- 
gelical Christians  of  all  names  and  languages  and  nations 
nearer  to  eacli  other  in  thought  and  sympathy,  and  in  cocipei'- 
ation,  the  principle  of  religious  liberty  has  lieen  gradually 
working  itself  into  the  public  opinion  of  the  civilized  world, 
and  into  the  laws  and  government  of  various  nations.  Forty 
years  ago,  in  England  itself,  conscientious  dissenters  from  the 
established  state-religion,  wliether  Protestants  or  Roman  Cath- 
olics, were  subjected  not  indeed  to  positive  persecution  on 
account  of  their  religion,  but  to  many  civil  disabilities  which 


102  LEONARD    BACON. 

are  now  almost  forgotten.  What  ])rog'i-e.ss  freedom  to  worship 
(4od — freedom  to  read  the  Bible — freedom  to  preach  the  Gros- 
pel — has  made,  within  these  forty  years,  in  France  and  other 
European  countries,  not  excepting  Italy,  nay,  in  realms  beyond 
the  bounds  of  Christendom,  I  -need  not  now  descril)e.  The 
change,  in  this  respect,  demonstrates  that  the  nations  ai'e 
already  at  the  threshold,  as  it  w^ere,  of  a  new  era,  when 
truth  shall  everywhere  be  free  in  the  conflict  wnth  error,  and 
throughout  the  world  the  emancipating  and  renewing  w^ord  of 
God  shall  run  without  hindrance. 

Let  us,  then,  not  forget  what  it  is  which  gives  the  chief  dis- 
tinction to  this  nineteenth  century, — namely,  the  great  move- 
ment for  the  propagation  of  the  (iospel  through  the  world. 
We  who  are  growing  old  have  seen  great  things  in  our  day. 
Looking  back  over  these  forty  years,  with  thoughtful  view, 
and  recollecting  how^  much  of  all  my  mortal  life  has  been 
measured  out  to  me,  I  cannot  but  thank  God  that  I  have  lived 
in  an  age  so  full  of  zeal  and  enterprise  in  the  work  of  preach- 
ing the  Gospel  to  every  creatui-e.  The  modern  era  of  evan- 
gelical missions  to  heathen  nations  may  be  marked  as  begin- 
ning near  the  close  of  the  last  century,  when  the  religious 
awakenings  of  that  century — the  standard  which  the  Spirit  of 
the  Lord  set  up  against  the  unbelief  and  atheism  that  were 
coming  in  like  a  flood — had  prepared  a  people  for  the  w^ork. 
Forty  years  ago,  the  chief  evangelizing  institutions  through 
which  the  missionary  zeal  of  Great  Britain  and  America  is 
now  putting  itself  forth  in  all  directions, — the  great  Bible  and 
Missionaiy  societies, — were  already  established ;  but  the  work 
w^as  only  begun.  Much  had  been  accomplished  of  preliminary 
labor;  the  field  had  been  widely  explored,  languages  had  been 
mastered,  missions  had  been  commenced  in  many  heathen 
lands,  translations  of  the  Bible  had  been  made  with  various 
degrees  of  accuracy,  wisdom  had  been  acquired  by  experience; 
and  there  had  been  just  enough  of  success  to  forbid  discour- 
ao-ement.  But  wliat  progress  have  we  seen  within  these  forty 
yeai's  !  What  do  we  see  to-day  (  The  isles  are  j-eceiving  (Jod's 
law.  Africa,  on  the  eastetn  coast  and  on  the  western,  is  bright- 
ening with  the  light  of  the  sun  of  righteousness.  Tlie  hoary 
idolatries  of  India  are  losing  their  power ;  and  converts  to 
Christ  in  that  land  of  immemorial  darkness,  are  mnnbered  by 


FOKT^"    ^'KARS    IX    ol'IIKK    KKLA'I'K  )NS.  I  ( •,", 

ti'iis  (»f  tli<tiis;in(ls.  Ill  Tiirkt-v  <iii<l  Syria,  (Jod's  hk^siiiii'  iipciii 
Pi-(»t(,'staut  missions  lias  acliieved  fivrdoni  for  tlic  (iosjx-I  ;  and. 
not  (inly  tliciH'  hnt  m  I'ci-sia.  tlir  ( iospil  is  di'iuonstrating  its 
p<>"\vei'  to  make  all  tliiniis  lu'w .  In  ('liina,  the  missionaries 
from  liotli  sides  of  tlie  Atlantic  arc  working  together,  and,  in 
the  churches  they  have  gathered  and  the  steady  progi'ess  of  the 
trntli.  they  see  that  their  long  labor  is  not  in  \ain  the  i.oi'd. 
The  darkness  of  the  entire  world  of  heathenism  is  <h)tted  over 
with  radiant  pitints  (»f  ( 'hristian  intlnenee;  and  tlie  free  eontri- 
hutions  of  Christ's  disciples  in  all  lands,  and  of  all  names,  are 
})onred  forth  in  a  volnme  ever  swelling  with  the  progress  of 
the  years,  and  are  aceompanied  with  prayers  and  aspirations 
which  gi\e  assnraiice  of  ever  grownng  success.  Let  the  work 
go  forward  at  the  same  rate  of  ]:)rogress  and  development 
through  another  period  of  forty  years;  and  then — in  the  tifth 
year  of  the  twentieth  centnry — how  changed  will  he  the  aspect 
of  this  long  benighted  world !  In  all  prohahility,  there  will 
even  then  be  vast  tracts  of  heathenism:  wickedness  may  still 
be  b(»ld  and  blasphemons  in  (^hristian  lands;  the  saints  of 
God  may  still  be  crying  to  him:  "  (),  Lord,  how  long^" — bnt 
the  evangelization  of  the  wT)rld,  the  work  which  the  world's 
Redeemer  has  laid  upon  his  church,  will  be  far  in  advance  of 
where  it  now  is.  Some  of  you  (we  know  not  who  they  are) 
will  see  that  day;  but  the  great  majority  of  us,  before  the 
beginning  of  that  tw-entieth  century,  will  have  ceased  to  have 
any  share 

"  In  all  that's  done 
"  Beneath  the  circuit  of  the  sun;" 

and  I  might  now  count  oft"  name  after  name  of  those  who  will 
surely  be  in  that  majority. 

I  am  sure  to  be  in  that  majority,  for  "  1  know  that  shortly,'' 
at  the  latest,  "I  must  put  off  this  my  tabernacle."  But  I 
charge  you  whom  I  shall  leave  l)ehind  me,  to  be  faithful  and 
constant  in  this  work  of  spreading  through  the  wo)'ld  the 
knowledge  and  kingdom  of  Christ,  So  long  as  "Thy  king- 
dom come "  is  on  your  lips,  let  it  nevei-  be  an  empty  ])hrase  ; 
let  it  never  be  anything  less  than  the  breathing  of  faith  and 
earnest  hope,  and  the  consecratiftn  of  your  free  offerings  and 
your  personal  service  as  "fellow- workers  unto  the  kingdom  of 
God" — fellow-workers  with  those  who  have  reste<l  from  their 


104  LEONARD    BACON. 

labors,  and  fellow- workers  with  those  who  shall  come  %fter 
yon.  So  shall  you  share  in  the  trinniphal  joy,  when  heaven 
shall  shout  to  earth,  and  earth  respond  to  heaven :  "  The  king- 
doms  OF    THIS   WOELD   ARE    BECOME    THE    KINGDOMS    OF    OUR 

Lord." 

My  dear  friends,  of  this  Church  and  Ecclesiastical  Society,  I 
have  now  a  few  words  more  to  say,  of  deep  interest  to  myself 
and  to  you. 

1  am  the  oldest  pastor  in  Connecticut,  who  has  not,  partly  or 
wholly,  withdrawn  from  his  work. 

The  last  ten  years  in  a  pastorate  of  half  a  century  are  neces- 
sarily years  of  diminished  vigor  and  of  diminishing  success  in 
the  work  of  the  ministry. 

I  am  old  enougli,  now,  to  ask  for  relief ;  and  at  the  same 
time  I  am  not  too  old  to  receive  it  without  feeling  that  I  am 
slighted  by  the  offer  of  it. 

Not  for  my  own  sake  merely,  but  rather  for  your  sake  and 
your  children's  sake,  I  ask  you  now  to  relieve  me  while  I  am 
willing  to  be  relieved.  All  that  concerns  the  mode  or  extent 
of  tlie  relief,  I  would  refer  to  your  kindness  and  discretion. 
On  that  point  1  have  only  to  say :  Give  me  either  a  colleague, 
or  (if  such  be  your  judgment)  a  successor.  1  do  not  ask  for  an 
associate,  one  who  shall  help  me,  and  for  whom  1  juust  be  in 
some  sort  responsible.  1  ask  rather  for  one  who  shall  take 
charge  of  the  flock,  and  be  responsible  for  it,  and  whom  I  may 
help  only  as  he  may  ask  for  assistance  in  the  flrst  few  years  of 
his  work. 

1  am  able  to  work,  and  may  be  able,,  perhaps,  for  ten  years 
more.  While  I  am  still  at  your  service  in  the  work  which  I 
have  so  long  performed  among  you,  1  trust  I  can  And  other 
work  to  do  which  will  contribute  to  my  support,  1  do  not  ask 
to  become  a  burthen  on  you.  1  am  willing  to  work  while  it  is 
day.  I  only  remend^er,  and  for  your  sake  I  remind  you,  that 
to  me  the  day  is  far  spent,  and  the  night  is  coming  wlien  no 
uian  can  work  ;  and  so  I  leave  the  matter  in  your  hands. 

"•  The  Lord  bless  you  and  keep  you :  the  Lord  make  his  face 
shine  up(m  you,  and  be  gracious  unto  you :  the  Lord  lift  u])  his 
countenance  upon  you,  and  give  you  peace." 


SERMON 

Preached  on  liETiRiNG  from  the  Pastorate. 


THE  PASTOK  EETTKING  FEOM  HIS  OFFICIAL 

WOKK. 

Preached  September  9,  1866. 
Acts  xx.  32. — And  now,  Brethren-,  I  commend  you  to  God,  and  to  the 

WORD   OP    HIS   GRACE,    WHICH   IS   ABLE    TO   BUILD   YOU   UP,    AND   TO   GIVE    YOU   AX 
INHERITANCE   AMONG   ALL  THEM   WHICH   ARE   SANCTIFIED. 

Few  tilings  in  the  history  <>f  Paul  the  Apostle  are  more 
characteristic  of  the  man,  or  of  the  gospel  which  he  preached, 
than  this  disconrse  of  his  to  the  officers  of  the  Ephesian  church, 
when  they  had  come  down,  at  his  invitation,  to  meet  him  at 
Miletus,  and  there  to  part  with  him.  The  discourse,  in  all  that 
he  says  to  them  about  their  official  work  and  responsibility,  in 
all  that  he  says  al)out  himself,  and  in  all  that  he  says  about 
approaching  conflicts  with  evil,  is  a  lesson  to  churches  and  min- 
isters through  all  time. 

Eeading  this  discourse,  we  can  hardly  fail  to  observe  how 
freely  and  naturally  he  speaks  of  himself,  in  the  first  person, 
and  of  his  ministry.  He  was  speaking  to  friends — to  old  and 
tried  friends — in  circumstances  which  required  him  to  speak  in 
that  way.  To  speak  otherwise,  on  that  occasion,  would  have 
been  affectation,  and  he  would  have  failed  to  say  the  fit  and 
timely  words,  had  he  been  embarrassed  by  the  fear  of  exposing 


106  LEONARD    BACON. 

hiuiself  to  the  imputation  of  egotism.  If  I  speak  of  myself 
this  afternoon,  let  the  occasion  1)e  my  apolo<J:;y. 

An  official  ministry  of  forty-one  years  and  a  half,  in  this 
ancient  chui-ch,  is  now  to  he  ended.  On  the  first  Lord's  Day 
in  the  next  month,  forty-two  years  will  have  been  completed 
since  the  first  occasion  on  which  I  led  the  worship  of  God  in 
this  honse,  and  attempted  to  dispense  the  word  of  life.  It 
would  l)e  injustice  to  your  feelings  and  my  own,  if  I  should 
retire  froin  my  official  work  among  you  without  some  serious 
and  affectionate  words  appropriate  to  the  occasion.  For  this 
purpose  no  better  arrangement  of  topics  occurs  to  me  than  that 
which  the  Apostle  followed  in  his  address  to  the  Ephesian 
elders. 

I.  He  appeals  to  their  knowledge  of  himself.  "■  Ye  your- 
selves know,  from  the  first  day  that  I  came  into  Asia,  after 
what  manner  I  ha\'e  been  with  you  at  all  seasons."  So  T  may 
say,  you  know  the  coui'se  and  character  of  my  ministry  among 
you  from  its  beginning.  T^ut  to  how  few  of  you  can  I  say  this 
literally  and  personally  !  Where  are  the  men  and  women  that 
knew  the  l)eginning  of  my  service  here  ?  I  look  along  this 
aisle — and  that — and  that ;  and  how  few  are  there  to  whom,  as 
individuals,  I  can  say  :  You  personally  know,  from  the  iirst 
day  that  I  stood  here  to  preach  the  gospel,  after  what  manner  I 
have  been  with  you  at  all  seasons !  Some  such  there  are  wdio 
are  older  than  myself,  and  others  who  have  grown  old  with  me  ; 
and  I  thank  God  that  every  one  of  them  is  my  dear  friend 
to-day,  esteeming  me  very  highly  in  love — not  surely  for  my 
ow^n  sake,  as  if  I  deserved  it,  but  for  my  work's  sake.  The 
great  majority  of  those  who  are  now  adults  in  the  parish,  were 
children,  oi-  were  not  yet  born,  when  I  began  the  work  which  I 
resign  to-day.  Yet  I  may  say  to  them,  as  well  as  to  the  few 
who  are  of  my  own  age,  or  older — to  the  congregation  as  a 
whole  I  may  say — to  all  the  churches  of  Christ  in  this  city  I 
may  say — to  the  entire  comnnmity  of  those  around  us  who 
take  any  interest  in  the  ministry  of  the  gospel.  I  may  say  :  Ye 
know  after  what  maimer  I  have  been  among  you  at  all  times. 

It  is  a  serious  thought  to  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  and  espe- 
cially to  the  pastor  of  a  church,  that  so  many  peoi)le  know  him, 
and  know  after  what  manner  he  is  doing  his  work,  or  has  done 


RKTIINXC    1<M?()M    TlIS    OFFFflAL    WORK.  1(>( 

it.  Ill's  woi'k  is  esseiitiallv  piiltlic — lu*  is  always  iiikK-i-  inspec- 
tion and  criticism.  Otlici's  nuiy  seek  retiiviiiciit.  and  luxe  td 
dwell  in  the  shade  ;  Init  he  has  no  privilege  of  that  soi-t.  what- 
ever his  iiielination  may  l)e.  His  gifts,  his  merits,  and  not 
these  only,  bnt  his  faults,  his  mistakes,  his  infirmities,  his  pro- 
fessional hahits,  his  ])ersonal  pecnliai-ities.  his  infelicities  of 
manner  or  depoi'tment,  helong  in  some  degree  to  the  i)nl»lic. 
Everybody  in  the  parish  knows  all  about  iiim  ;  and  what  the 
whole  ])aris]i  knows,  everybody  else  knows.  Exervbody  has  a 
right — more  or  less  clearly  recognized — to  talk  about  him,  and 
to  give  an  opinion  for  or  against  him,  whatever  he  does,  or 
whatever  lie  neglects  or  refuses  to  do.  All  this  is  an  inevitable 
incident  of  his  position.  lie  nnist  bear  this  yoke  in  Ids  youth  ; 
and  if  he  lives  long  enough  he  must  bear  it  till  he  is  old.  He 
cannot  look  upon  his  congregated  hearers — he  cannot  meet  his 
neighbors  in  any  relation  —  w^ithout  the  thought :  They  all 
know  after  what  manner  J  am  with  them  at  all  seasons  : — if  I 
am  faithful,  the  ineffaceable  record  of  my  fidelity  is  in  their 
consciences  ;  if  I  am  unfaithful,  they  are  witnesses  against  me. 
II.  The  Apostle,  in  thus  appealing  to  their  jjersonal  mem- 
ory, reminds  them  more  distinctly  of  what  he  had  done  in  that 
churcli,  and  of  Mdiat  he  had  experienced  there.  "  Ye  know 
after  what  mannei"  I  have  l)een  with  you — serving  the  Lord 
with  all  humility  of  mind,  and  with  many  tears  and  tempta- 
tions which  came  upon  nie  by  the  plottings  of  the  Jews — how 
I  kept  back  nothing  that  was  profitable  unto  you,  but  have 
showed  you  and  taught  you  publicly,  and  from  house  to  house, 
testifying,  both  to  the  Jews  and  also  to  the  Greeks,  repentance 
toward  God,  and  faith  toward  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  I  dare 
not  say  so  much  as  this.  Yet,  appealing  to  you  who  know 
after  what  manner  I  have  been  with  you,  I  may  say  that,  if  I  know 
myself,  I  have  been  endeavoring,  through  all  the  days  of  this 
ministry,  to  serve  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Sure  I  am  that,  if 
I  have  served  Clirist  at  all,  I  have  served  him  with  a  constant 
sense  of  imperfection  and  unfitness  for  so  ai'duous  a  work,  f 
have  loved  the  work  of  preaching  the  gospel  and  showing  to 
men  the  way  of  salvation;  I  love  it  still;  I  hope  to  die  in  it; 
but  O,  how  far  have  I  come  short  of  setting  forth,  as  it  always 
seemed  to  me  I  might  do,  and  ought  to  do,  the  reasonableness, 


lOS  LEONAKD   BACON. 

the  attractiveness,  the  beauty,  the  glory  of  that  g<^spel  I  As  for 
tlie  "hiiniility  of  mind  "  whicli  tlie  Aj^ostle  speaks  of,  I  thhik 
I  know  what  it  is,  not  only  in  that  consciousness  of  moral  im- 
perfection in  the  sight  of  (lijd  whicli  attends  all  the  progress  of 
the  ('hristian  life,  but  also  in  the  consciousness  of  personal 
incompetence  to  so  great  a  work.  1  love  to  preach,  bnt  if  any- 
body has  at  any  time  been  dissatished  with  my  preaching,  and 
has  felt  that  it  did  not  approach  the  divine  greatness  of  the 
theme,  let  him  be  assured  that  I  have  been  more  dissatisfied 
than  he.  At  the  same  time  T  may  say  :  You  know  how  I  have 
kept  back  nothing  that  was  profitable  to  you — no  point  of 
(christian  truth  or  duty  that  has  seemed  to  be  needful,  but 
have  announced  to  you,  publicly,  and  from  house  to  house — in 
the  great  congregation,  and  in  the  more  private  teaching  and 
application  of  the  word — testifying  to  all  alike,  year  after  year, 
in  times  of  revived  religious  feeling,  and  in  times  of  comj^ara- 
tive  declension,  the  one  comprehensive  doctrine  of  repentance 
toward  (lod,  and  faith  toward  our  Lord  Jesus  (Christ.  This,  as 
every  hearer  knows,  has  been,  in  its  diversified  bearings  and 
relations — in  the  arguments  by  which  it  is  enforced,  the  views 
of  (rod  and  man,  of  time  and  eternity,  of  sin  and  salvation,  by 
which  it  is  illustrated,  and  the  applications  in  which  it  bears  on 
all  the  details  of  human  duty — this  has  been  the  burthen  of 
my  ministry  :  Repent,  for  the  kingdom  of  heaven  is  here — 
repent,  and  turn  to  God — repent,  and  bring  forth  fruits  meet 
for  repentance — repent,  and  believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
putting  full  confidence  in  his  readiness  and  power  to  save  you, 
and  following  him  whithersoever  his  word  and  spirit  will  lead 
you. 

One  phrase  in  the  Apostle's  speech  refers  to  what  he  had  ex- 
perienced at  Ephesus.  He  speaks  of  his  "  tears,"  and  of  the 
opposition — the  "temptations"  or  persecutions — which  he  had 
encountered  from  the  machinations  of  the  unbelieving  Jews. 
His  allusion  in  the  word  "  tears"  may  be  to  some  personal  sor- 
row which  was  of  course  well  known  to  his  hearers  on  that 
occasion,  but  of  which  no  record  has  come  to  us.  Perhaps  the 
allusion  is  only  to  the  anxiety  and  the  depression  of  feeling 
with  which  he  had  pursued  his  work,  watching  for  souls,  and 
grieved  to  see   men  dying  in  theii-  sins.     l>ut  when  he  speaks 


KKTlKlNc;    FROM    HIS    UFFlCiAL    WORK.  109 

of  what  l)etVl '  liiin  by  the  plotting^  of  advc'i'saries,  we  know 
what  he  means.  We  have,  in  the  f(»ivi>(»in<!;  diapter,  a  definite 
account  of  the  <»ppositi(»n  wliich  was  made  to  him  in  Ephesus 
on  the  ii'i'oiind  that  liis  ])reachino-  intei'fei'ed  with  commercial 
and  ])ul)Iic  interests  ;  and  he  implies  that  when,  as  he  expresses 
it  in  one  of  his  epistles,  he  ''fought  with  wihl  beasts  at  Ephe- 
sus," unhelieving  Jews,  enemies  of  Christ  crucified,  were  at  the 
bottom  of  tlie  mischief,  as  we  know  they  were  at  Iconiuni  and 
Lystra,  and  at  other  places.  Xow  I  have  no  thought  of  com- 
paring myself  with  the  Apostle  in  this  respect.  My  life  among 
yon  has  not  been  without  its  share  in  the  sorrows  incident  to 
our  condition  in  a  dying  \A'orld  ;  but  why  should  I  speak  of 
such  soi'rows  to-day  (  Let  me  rather  say  that,  through  your 
kin(hiess.  and  by  the  favoring  providence  of  God,  my  life 
among  you  ha>  been  eminently  a  happy  life.  My  home, 
though  often  dai'kened  by  sickness  and  death,  has  been,  and  is, 
a  hap])y  home.  Yet  when  T  think  of  this  long  ministry,  and 
of  liow  many  there  have  l)een,  and  are,  to  whom,  in  the  name 
of  a  redeeming  God,  I  have  offered  a  great  and  free  salvation, 
but  of  whom  it  would  be  presumptuous  to  say  that  the  gospel 
which  they  have  heard  here  w41I  not  bear  witness  against  them 
to  their  condenmation — when  I  remend^er  what  thoughts,  what 
hopes,  what  disappointments,  I  have  had  concerning  them — 
when  r  remend)er  what  prayers,  in  the  church  and  in  retire 
ment.  have  accompanied  the  invitations,  the  persuasions,  and 
the  warnings  wdiich  I  have  addressed  to  them  from  this  place, 
and  in  which  I  have  been  Christ's  messenger  to  their  souls — I 
can  enfer  into  the  feeling  which  the  Apostle  uttered  when  he 
spoke  of  "serving  the  Lord  with  all  humility  of  mind,  and 
with  many  tears.'' 

[Something,  too,  I  have  known  of  that  op])osition  whicli  the 
free  and  earnest  application  of  God's  woi-d  to  the  sins  of  men 
i-arely  fails  to  excite.  ( )f  course  I  have  never  had  any  such 
experience  as  Paul  had  at  Ephesus  and  elsewhere — such  tilings 
are  not  to  be  expected  here.  Nor  have  I  ever  encountered  any 
hostility  on  the  part  of  this  church,  or  of  the  ecclesiastical 
society.  If  here  and  there  one  has  been  unaljle  to  accept  the 
views  which  have  here  been  exhibited  from  the  word  of  God, 
and  applied  to  live  (juestitms  of  duty,  such  persijns  have  never 


110  LEONAKD    BACON. 

formed  a  party  in  opposition  to  the  Pastor.  Sometimes  such 
an  one  has  been  generously  willing  to  recognize  the  fact  that  I 
must  be  governed  hj  my  own  convictions,  and  sometimes  an- 
other has  quietly  withdrawn  to  seek  elsewhere  a  ministry  better 
suited  to  the  habit  of  his  mind.  But,  after  all,  I  have  never 
had  occasion  to  take  alarm  from  that  saying  of  Christ :  "Woe 
unto  you  when  all  men  shall  speak  well  of  you."  The  open 
enemies  of  Christian  truth  and  holiness,  and  those  who  have 
had  aims  or  interests  adverse  to  the  moral  welfare  of  society, 
have  never  been  my  friends.  It  is  a  small  thing  to  have  been 
the  song  of  the  drunkard,  and  the  jest  of  the  ribald  scoffer. 
Men  who  get  gain  by  maldng  drunkards,  and  whose  industry 
helps  to  increase  the  aggregate  of  vice  and  crime  in  the  com- 
munity, filling  the  poor-house  and  the  jail  with  the  victims  of 
their  trade,  have  hated  me  and  cursed  me.  Men  who  find  their 
fellow-man  "  guilty  of  a  skin  not  colored  like  their  own,"  and 
who  "  for  such  a  rightful  cause"  desire  to  tread  him  down — 
men  whose  interests  in  trade,  or  whose  associations  and  aspira- 
tions in  political  parties,  were  so  involved  in  the  wicked  insti- 
tution of  slavery  that  they  must  needs  pay  homage  to  that 
hideous  idol,  and  cry  in  its  behalf,  from  time  to  time,  as  De- 
metrius and  his  mob  cried  :  "  Great  is  Diana  of  the  Ephesians" 
— and  men  who  were  disloyal  or  half  loyal  to  their  country 
when  rebellion  was  striking  at  its  life — have  charged  me  with 
not  preaching  the  gospel,  and  have  cast  out  my  name  as  evil. 
But  their  opposition  has  never  done  me  personally  any  harm, 
(such  men's  opinions,  as  to  what  the  gospel  is,  are  of  little  con- 
sequence), and,  in  this  closing  hour  of  my  service  as  your  Pas- 
tor, I  am  thankful  to  remember  that  those  who  want  an 
antinomian  gospel,  with  no  denunciation  of  wickedness,  with 
no  light  for  the  conscience,  and  with  no  power  to  quicken  the 
moral  sense,  have  never  spoken  well  of  me.  Opposition  from 
such  sources  is  a  testimony  that  I  have  not  shunned  to  declare 
all  the  counsel  of  God. 

The  Apostle  could  say,  in  all  humility  of  mind,  and  without 
professing  that  he  had  never,  in  any  respect,  come  short  of  his 
duty  to  Christ :  "  I  take  you  to  record  this  day  that  I  am  pure 
from  the  blood  of  all  men,  for  I  have  not  shunned  to  declare 
unto  you  all  the  counsel  of  God,"     Whik^  T  know  my  infirm- 


RETIRING    FROM    IMS    OFPMCIAL    WORK.  Ill 

ity.  and  confess  before  (-rod,  and  before  you  all,  that  ,1  have 
fallen  verv  far  slioit  of  wliat  1  on^'lit  to  liave  been  as  a  niini.s- 
tei'  of  Clirist  in  sncli  a  place  as  this,  yon  are  my  witnesses  this 
day  that,  so  far  as  the  seojje  and  range  of  my  preaeliing  of 
God's  word  is  eoncerned,  I  have  ke])t  baek  nothing  that  was 
profitable,  and  liave  not  shumied  to  declare  nnto  yon  all  the 
counsel  of  (iod.  and  that,  in  that  view.  I  am  tree  from  tlie 
Wood  of  all  men. 

III.  Anothei'  topic  in  PanTs  diseonrse  at  Miletus  is  even 
more  personal  to  himself.  He  speaks  of  his  own  future,  and 
of  the  uncertainties  which  were  before  him.  •  "  I  am  going," 
he  says,  "•  to  Jerusalem,  carried  along  like  a  prisoner — l)ound  in 
the  spirit — bound  in  conscience — not  knowing  the  things  that 
shall  befall  me  there."  There  were  many  things  distinctly  in 
prospect  that  might  have  discouraged  him  ;  but  his  great  desire 
was  that  he  ''  might  finish  his  course  with  joy,  and  the  ministry 
which  he  had  received,  to  testify  the  gospel  of  the  grace  of 
God." 

In  regard  to  my  own  future,  I  have  little  to  say.  I  am  not 
departing  from  you.  Here,  where  I  have  lived  so  many  years, 
I  ex])ect  to  pass  the  brief  remainder  of  my  life.  How  it  is 
that  my  official  ministry  in  this  dear  congregation  has  come  to 
its  conclusion,  I  can  hardly  explain  to  myself  otherwise  than 
by  saying  that  Clod  has  so  ordered  it.  When  I  proposed  to 
you,  a  year  and  a  half  ago,  to  relieve  me  of  my  pastoral  care 
and  labor,  entirely,  or  in  part,  at  your  discretion,  I  had  no  plan 
or  prospect  for  the  future,  other  than  that  perhaps  I  might 
find  time  in  the  evening  of  life  to  perfoi'm,  for  the  churches  of 
ISTew  England,  a  service  to  which  I  had  been  urged  by  friends 
and  by  l)rethren  in  the  ministry,  but  which  I  felt  I  should  not 
perform  with  the  undivided  care  of  tliis  congregation  resting 
on  me  ;  and  that,  while  performing  that  service,  I  might  also 
be  doing  some  good  by  giving  instruction  to  theological  stu- 
dents concerning  the  New  England  church-polity  and  church- 
history.  My  thought  was  that  I  might  go  on  with  my  pastoral 
charge  for  another  year  or  two,  and  then  perhaps  for  yet  an- 
other, till  you  should  find  a  successor  for  me.  But  your  singu- 
lar kindness  and  generosity  in  meeting,  and  more  than  meeting, 
■  my  wishes,   and  in  making  provision  for  me  and  those  depend- 


1  1  !2  l.EONARD  .  BACON. 

eiit  on  iiie  in  my  declining  yeuris,  became  a  significant  intima- 
tion to  me — an  intimation,  not  of  your  wish,  Imt  of  yonr  gener- 
ous willingness,  that  I  should  lay  down  my  office.  And  then 
—just  as  the  arrangement  was  complete  which  you  have  made 
for  me — a  most  unexpected  invitation  to  a  different  kind  of 
work  was  laid  before  me.  In  other  circumstances,  1  should  not 
have  listened  t(»  such  an  invitation.  There  is  no  promotion  in 
going  from  this  pulpit  to  a  tiieological  chair — as  pulpits  and 
professorships  are  to-day.  Tbe  transfer  might  have  been  pre- 
ferment forty  years  ago ;  l)ut  times  are  changed.  For  many 
years  I  have  been  devoutly  thankful  that  I  was  not  a  professor 
of  theology;  and  never  have  I  desired  a  position  so  exposed 
to  the  censures  of  those  good  men  who  feel  that  their  voca- 
tion is  to  be  jealous  for  their  traditional  orthodoxy.  But,  not- 
withstanding my  reluctance,  the  circumstances  in  which  I 
found  myself,  when  the  invitation  came,  seemed  like  a  clear 
revelation  of  my  duty.  I  go  "bound  in  the  spirit" — reluc- 
tantly— under  a  sort  of  necessity  laid  upon  me  in  God's 
providence — not  knowing  how  I  may  sncceed  in  my  new  work. 
It  is  a  work  in  which  my  term  of  service,  at  the  longest,  must 
be  very  short,  and  for  which  I  can  now  make  no  preparation 
other  than  that  which  my  more  than  forty  years  of  service  and 
experience  in  j^reaching  have  given  me.  I  may  fail  in  it.  I 
have  not  dared  to  commit  myself  to  it  but  for  a  single  year. 
But  if,  by  the  blessing  of  God,  I  succeed  in  it,  I  shall  leave  a 
great  legacy  of  good  behind  me,  having  finished  my  course 
with  joy,  and  the  ministry  which  I  have  received  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  to  testify  the  gosjjel  of  the  grace  of  God. 

IV.  The  Apostle  speaks  anxiously,  and  in  words  of  warning, 
as  to  the  future  that  was  before  the  church  at  Ephesus. 
Charging  the  elders  or  bishops,  who  were  his  hearers,  that  they 
should  take  heed  to  themselves  and  to  all  the  flock  over  which 
the  Holy  Ghost  had  made  them  overseers,  he  says  :  "I  know 
this,  that  after  my  departing  grievous  wolves  will  enter  in 
among  you,  not  sparing  the  flock.  Also  of  your  own  selves 
will  men  arise,  speaking  perverse  things  to  draw  away  disciples 
after  them."  He  foresaw  dangers  coming  upon  that  church 
from  without,  and  dangers  arising  within,  but  he  could  say  in 
coilfident  hope:  ''I  commend  you  to  G(^d,  and  to  the  word  of  ' 


HKTIHINC     FHOM    HIS    OFFICIAI,    WORK.  '  ll-'l 

his  trriice,  wliicli  is  able  to  l)nil(l  you  u|)  and  to  ^ive  you  an  in- 
lieritaiiee  ainon»j  all  tlieui  wliicli  are  sanctified.'" 

Shall  I  say  anything-  to  you  al)out  your  future  '.  I  I'eiueui- 
ber  tlie  past.  The  history  of  this  church,  foi- two  hundred  and 
thirty  years,  testifies  of  God's  care  and  favor.  He  hi'ou<i;ht 
hither  a  vine  as  out  of  Egypt.  Recast  ont  the  heathen,  and 
planted  it.  Tie  ])re])ared  room  before  it,  and  caused  it  to  take 
deep  root.  "  She  hath  sent  ont  her  bong-hs  unto  the  sea,  and 
her  branches  nnto  the  river!''  Will  be  not  behold  and  visit 
this  vine  and  the  vineyard  which  his  right  hand  hath  planted '. 
Will  be  wbo  has  guai'ded  this  clinrcb,  and  npheld  it  througli 
so  many  ages,  and  so  many  ebanges,  forsake  it  now  {  I  call  to 
mind  tbe  changes  of  these  last  forty  years.  What  hath  God 
wrought  I  Think,  brethren,  what  has  been  going  on  in  this 
world  since  you  and  I  have  been  in  this  relation  to  each  other. 
No  age  of  history,  save  only  that  in  which  Christ  came  and 
his  gT»spel  began  to  run  its  course  of  conquest,  has  been  so  full 
of  marvelous  changes  as  the  age  in  which  we  have  been  living, 
and  which  is  covered  by  the  personal  recollections  of  the  old 
men  among  us.  Think  what  revolutions  of  empire  there  have 
been — what  changes  in  commerce  and  the  intercourse  of  na- 
tions— what  strides  in  the  progress  of  civilization,  of.  knowl- 
edge, and  of  the  arts  that  minister  to  human  power  or  human 
comfort.  Think  how  marveloasly  these  changes  ha^'e  been 
made  subservient,  on  the  whole,  to  the  advancement  of  civil 
and  religious  liberty,  to  the  more  general  diffusion  of  knowl- 
edge in  all  civilized  nations,  and  to  the  spread  of  the  gospel 
through  the  world.  Such  views  are  familiar  to  all  intelligent 
persons,  but  it  requires  a  more  thoughtful  mind,  observant  of 
spiritual  things,  to  realize  what  changes  have  been  taking  place 
wutliin  these  forty  years  in  the  universal  church  of  Christ — 
especially  how  the  religious  thinking,  and  the  religious  activity, 
and  the  various  manifestations  of  religious  experience  and 
spiritual  life,  in  the  entire  extent  of  Protestant  and  Evangel- 
ical Christendom,  have  really  advanced  from  the  position  of 
forty  years  ago.  ( )ther  changes,  of  no  less  significance  than 
those  which  crowed  our  memory,  will  mark  the  remainder  of 
the  waning  century.  The  kingdom  of  Christ  is  advancing  ; 
and.  as  dependent  on   it  or  subsidiary  to  it,  governments  will 


114  LEONARD    BACON. 

rise  and  fall,  old  empires  will  pass  away  like  exhalations, 
science  will  make  new  discoveries  in  all  the  realms  of  nature, 
commerce  and  art  will  give  new  power  to  industry,  and  the 
wealth  of  nations — especially  of  free  and  Christian  nations 
like  our  own — will  increase  beyond  all  former  calculation. 
Peril  is  always  incident  to  progress,  and,  as  I  look  to  the  imme- 
diate future,  I  foresee  dangers  to  the  churches — dangers  in 
which  this  church  must  share.  I  foresee  danger  from  without, 
in  the  prevailing  tendency  of  modern  thought  acting  on  the 
churches  and  their  ministry  through  all  the  channels  of  litera- 
ture, and  coming  in  on  all  the  vehicles  of  intellectual  influence. 
The  tendency  of  modern  thought  is  to  the  denial  of  a  personal 
God,  and  therefore  to  a  scheme  or  body  of  opinions  which  is 
really  atheism  cloaking  itself  in  words  that  seem  to  be  religious. 
That  is  the  danger  from  without — the  danger  of  a  pantheistic 
Anti-Christ,  for  even  now  there  are  many  Anti-Christs — the 
danger  of  conceptions  and  principles,  plausible  but  heathenish, 
creeping  into  the  churches  in  the  guise  of  a  religious  philos- 
ophy, like  wolves  in  sheep's  clothing.  At  the  same  time  I  for- 
see  danger  from  within — nay,  I  see  it  actually  present,  and 
growing  every  day.  The  danger  from  within  is  in  the  grow- 
ing wealth  of  the  members  of  the  churches,  and  in  those  habits 
of  self-pleasing,  and  conformity  to  the  world,  which  wealth 
engenders.  O  my  Christian  brethren  in  this  church,  take  heed 
to  yourselves — take  heed  to  the  flock.  Take  heed  in  the  choice 
of  a  Pastor.  Take  heed  to  place  over  you,  in  the  ministry  of 
the  word,  not  one  whose  brilliant  rhetoric  shall  attract  the 
thoughtless  without  making  them  thoughtful,  and  wlio  shall 
pull  down  other  congregations  to  l)uild  up  tliis,  but  a  man 
earnest  to  save  souls,  a  man  full  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  of  that 
power  which  conies  from  comnmnion  with  the  mind  of  Christ, 
a  man  who  will  feed  the  flock  of  thfe  Lord  which  He  has  pur- 
chased with  his  blood.  Thus  I  commend  you  to  Grod,  and  to 
the  word  of  his  grace.  Let  your  trust  for  your  future  be  in 
that  gospel  which  is  in  the  power  .of  (rod  to  salvation,  and  in 
God  who  gave  it.  He  is  able  to  build  you  up,  and  to  give  you 
an  inheritance  among  all  them  who  are  sanctifled. 

Moi'e  than    this  the  Ajmstle  said  to   his  lieaivi's  at  Miletus. 
In  order  to  secure  them  against  the  danii'ers  mIiicIi  he  foresaw, 


KM"riHIX(;     Kl!<iM     HIS    OFFICIAL    WOHK.  115 

he  coiniiicMulcd  to  tlieir  attention  the  heneficeiit  and  self-deny- 
ing eliaracter  of  tlie  religion  wliicli  he  liad  tanght  them.  Having 
referred  to  liis  own  example,  reminding  them  how  far  lie  stood 
above  the  snspieion  of  mercenary  aims  and  views  in  the  work 
which  he  had  done  among  them,  and  with  what  self-denial  he 
had  served  them  in  the  gospel,  by  his  personal  industry  con- 
tributing to  the  necessities  of  himself,  and  of  those  that  were 
with  him,  he  ended  his  discourse  by  saying :  "  I  have  showed 
you  all  things,  how  that  so  laboring  ye  ought  to  support  the 
weak,  and  to  remember  the  words  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  how  he 
said  :  '  It  is  more  blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.'  "  Tlie  benefi- 
cent spirit  of  Christ  living  in  his  followers — self-denying  ac- 
tivity and  generosity  in  doing  good — earnest  and  unwearying 
co(")peration  in  the  work  of  Christi — is  the  conservative  power 
by  which  the  church,  under  the  guardianship  of  Christ  himself, 
must  be  held  up,  and  built  up,  in  all  the  times  of  temptation 
that  come  upon  the  earth.  Those  who  are  working  for  Christ, 
and  Nvith  him,  against  the  wretchedness,  the  ignorance,  and  the 
wickedness,  of  the  world — consulting  and  praying  together,  and 
provoking  one  another  in  holy  emulation  to  love  and  good 
works — are  workers  together  with  God,  and,  in  the  conscious- 
ness that  he  is  with  them,  tliey  know  that  their  fellowship  is 
with  the  Father  and  with  his  Son  Jesus  Christ.  Religion  is  to 
them  not  a  speculation  nor  a  dream,  but  a  life,  and  no  plausi- 
bilities of  pantheistic  philosophy,  in  whatever  form  of  literature 
or  science,  can  turn  them  from  their  faith  in  a  personal  God, 
who  discerns  between  good  and  evil,  with  infinite  joy  in  the 
one,  and  infinite  abhorrence  of  the  other.  The  temptations 
which  come  with  increase  of  riches  shall  not  prevail  over  them, 
for  the  discipline  of  work  and  self-denial  in  the  service  of  Christ 
is  ever  training  them  to  acknowledge  that,  as  they  are  Christ's, 
so  all  that  they  can  call  th^ir  own  is  his,  and  cannot  without 
sacrilege  be  used  for  their  own  self-indulgence  and  vain  glory. 
Brethren  and  friends,  in  this  final  hour  of  my  official  ministry 
among  you,  I  charge  you,  as  you  would  be  safe  from  the  temp- 
tations that  in  the  future  will  beset  you  from  without  and  from 
within,  take  heed  to  yourselves  and  to  the  flock,  and  let  this 
church  become  progressively  earnest  and  large-hearted  in  the 
work  of  the  Lord.     Remember  that  pure  religion  and  unde- 


116  LEONARD    BACON. 

filed  before  God  and  the  Fatlier  is  a  religion  of  personal  l)enefi- 
cence,  and  of  protest  in  spirit  and  life  against  all  in  this  world 
that  pollntes  the  sonl.  Be,  not  in  profession  <^nly,  bnt  in  all  • 
your  activity  and  aspiration,  followers  of  Christ  as  dear  chil- 
dren— followers  of  him  who,  though  he  was  rich,  for  our  sake 
became  poor — followers  of  the  world's  Redeemer,  and  workers 
together  with  him — working  and  giving  as  well  as  praying — 
working  for  God — working,  through  every  good  enterprise  and 
institution  for  the  church,  for  the  suffering  or  the  degraded, 
for  neighl)ors  and  fellow  citizens,  for  posterity,  for  the  c(^untry, 
for  the  world.  So  shall  God,  by  the  word  of  his  grace,  build 
you  up,  and  give  you  an  inheritance  among  the  saints, 

A  few  words  will  sufficiently  explain  the  position  in  which  T 
stand  henceforth  as  related  to  those  who  have  been  the  people 
of  my  pastoral  charge.  My  relation  to  the  Ecclesiastical  So- 
ciety will  be  simply  that  of  a  grateful  pensioner.  From  this 
day  the  pulpit  is  no  longer  mine.  I  have  no  responsibility  for 
it,  and  no  c<mtrol  over  it.  My  resignation  having  ])een  ac- 
cepted l)y  the  society  and  consented  to  by  the  church,  I  am 
simply  a  retired  Pastor^  not  dismissed  by  a  council,  and  com- 
mended to  the  churches  for  another  settlement,  but  one  who 
has  served  his  time  out,  and  been  released  from  service.  In 
this  church  I  am  a  l)rother — an  elder  brother,  and,  in  tlie  sense 
of  that  Apostolic  precept,  ''  Is  any  sick  anumg  you  i  let  him 
call  for  the  elders  of  tlie  chui-ch,''  I  am  still  an  elder.  Till  the 
time  comes — which  T  pray  may  not  be  distant — when  yon  will 
have  another  Pastor,  call  for  me,  as  freely  as  heretofore,  when 
any  is  sick  among  you,  and  where  the  windows  are  darkened 
by  death.  Let  no  member  of  this  congregation  think  that  the 
tie  between  you  and  me  is  l)roken  in  that  respect,  or  that  it  is 
weakened,  so  long  as  you  are  without  anothei-  Pastor. 

Is  all  this  a  dream  ( — or  is  it  a  waking  reality  (  Is  it  indeed 
a  fact  that  I  am  now  laying  down  what  has  been  my  life-work  ( 
Of  the  less  than  sixty  years  this  side  of  the  dim  and  shadowy 
period  into  which  my  memory  cannot  distinctly  penetrate, 
almost  forty-two  are  identified  with  my  work  in  this  church. 
All  my  plans  in  life — all  my  intellectual  imrsnitw  and  enjoy- 
ments— my  studies  and  my   rela.xatioTis — my  dearest  affections 


RK/riUrXO     FROM     (IIS    OFKICIAI.    WORK.  117 

— lay  doiuestic  jojs  aiul  sorrows — all  iiiv  li<»j)es  this  side  of 
heaven  ;  yes,  and  my  liopes  that  reach  into  that  l)rio;liter  world 
— my  prayers — my  daily  consciousness  of  intirniity  and  de])en- 
dence — my  contlicts  with  temptation — my  confidence  in  ( 'hrist's 
grace  and  strength — my  experiences  of  religions  comfort,  and 
aspirations  after  likeness  to  the  Sa\'ionr — have  been  insepara- 
bly connected  with  that  burthen,  lieavy  but  happy,  which  I 
now  lay  down  before  you  and  before  (lod.  You  cannot  tliink 
it  strange  that  the  laying  down  of  such  a  burtlien,  s(»  long  in- 
corporated with  my  life,  seems  to  me  almost  like  a  di'eaiii. 

Twice,  since  the  beginning  of  this  year,  T  have  l)eeii  called 
to  preach  at  a  Pastor's  funeral,  and  some]i(»w  it  seems  as  if  I 
were  performing  the  same  sort  of  service  to-day.  Among  the 
Pastors  of  the  (Congregational  churches  in  this  city,  the  two 
that  were  nearest  to  myself  in  age,  and  with  whom  I  had  been 
associated  from  the  beginning  of  their  ministry  in  their  early 
youth,  have  died ;  and  the  pulj^its  that  were  theirs  ar-e  vacant. 
This  pulpit  which  has  been  mine  is  vacant,  though  I  am  yet 
'dlive.  It  is  a  singular  coincidence  of  events,  under  the  provi- 
dence of  God,  that  these  three  churches,  the  oldest  of  our  order 
in  New  Haven — the  thi'ee  that  have  had  pastorates  continuing, 
respectively,  into  the  twenty-eightli,  the  thirty-third,  and  the 
forty-second  year — are  now  at  once  looking  to  the  gi'eat  Shep- 
herd and  Bishop  of  souls,  and  w^aiting  for  Pastors.  One  gener- 
ation goeth  and  another  generation  conieth.  The  age  to  which 
my  life  l)elong>  is  disappearing  and  passing  into  history,  and 
another  age,  in  which  the  most  of  you  will  survive  me,  is  be- 
ginning. Brethren  and  friends,  for  your  own  sake,  and  your 
children's  sake,  and  for  the  sake  of  all  those  interests  which  are 
involved  in  the  purity  and  spiritual  prosperity  of  these  churches, 
let  prayer  be  made  continually,  that  in  the  new  age  which  is 
opening,  these  churches,  enriched  with  the  ministry  of  godly 
Pastors,  able  and  faithful,  may  stand  together,  and  do  all  their 
part  in  the  work  of  training  souls  foi-  heaven,  and  of  filling  the 
world  with  the  knowledge  and  the  d-]oi-v  of  the  Loi'd. 


HALF-CENTURY  SERMON, 

Peeached  Makch  9,  1875,  by  Rev.  Leonakd  Bacon,  D.D. 


Psalm  lxsi.  IT.     0  God,  Tiiod  hast  taught  me  from  my  youth. 

Kever  till  this  day,  in  the  two  hundred  and  thirty-six  years 
since  the  gathering  of  this  church,  has  one  of  its  ministers 
lived  to  see  the  fiftieth  anniversary  of  his  induction  into  office. 
John  Davenport  was  more  than  forty  years  of  age  when  he 
kept  that  first  Sabbath  in  tlie  wilderness ;  and,  thirty  years 
afterward,  he  resigned  his  charge  and  removed  to  end  his  days 
in  the  service  of  another  church.  His  two  associates  here,  first 
William  Hooker,  and  then  Nicholas  Street,  were  men  who  had 
served  elsewhere  many  years,  not  only  in  the  national  Church 
of  England,  but  in  l^ew  England,  before  they  came  to  ISTew 
Haven.  The  first,  after  a  brief  ministry  as  teacher  of  this 
church,  returned  to  England.  The  other,  succeeding  him 
almost  innnediately,  and  continuing  six  years  after  the  re- 
moval of  Davenport,  died  at  an  advanced  age,  but  had  served 
this  church  less  than  sixteen  years.  James  Pierpont,  the  first 
of  our  pastors  born  and  educated  in  this  country,  died  at  the 
age  of  fifty-five,  after  twenty-nine  years  of  service.  The  pas- 
torate of  Joseph  Noyes  continued  forty-five  years,  including 
three  years  after  the  ordination  of  his  colleague  and  successor, 
C^hauncey  Whittelsey,  though  he  had  never  held  office  in  any 
other  church,  was  nearly  forty  years  old   at   the  date   of  his 


120  LEONARD    BACON. 

ordination,  and  the  period  of  liis  niinistiy  was  only  thirty  years, 
elanies  Dana  was  more  than  fifty  years  old  when  he  came  from 
the  church  in  Wallingf  ord  to  be  Pastor  of  this  church ;  and  in 
less  than  twenty  years  he  yielded  his  place  to  a  young  man. 
Muses  Stuart  was  Pastor  not  quite  four  years.  Ten  years  and 
a  half  were  measured  between  the  ordination  and  the  dismis- 
sion of   my  immediate  ^predecessor,  Nathaniel  William  Taylor. 

Yet  of  the  nine  whom  I  have  mentioned  as  having  been 
pastors  and  teachers  in  this  church,  all  save  one  died  in  old 
age,  while  only  the  first  two  and  the  last  three  were  removed 
otherwise  than  by  death.  I  have  numbered,  perhaps,  as  many 
years  of  life  as  the  most  aged  of  my  predecessors ;  Irat,  though 
I  was  relieved  from  the  burthen  of  the  pastorate  eight  years 
and  a  half  ago,  I  have  never  been  in  form,  dismissed  from  the 
(jfiice.  Therefore  I  regard  myself,  and  am  kindly  recognized 
l)y  the  church,  as  pastor  eineritus.  Some  reason,  too,  I  have 
to  believe  that  "having  obtained  help  from  God,"  I  have  not 
been  thus  far  mischievous  in  that  relation.  Neither  from  my 
gifted  and  honored  successor,  nor  from  the  deacons,  nor  yet 
from  members  of  the  church  or  of  the  ecclesiastical  society, 
has  there  come  to  me  even  the  least  or  most  indirect  manifesta- 
tion of  any  jealous  or  unkind  feeling  toward  the  old  minister. 
I  have  always  been  in  my  place  here  on  the  Sa1)bath,  unless 
detained  by  illness  or  called  to  scmie  occasional  ministry  else- 
where. I  have  not  assumed  to  preside  in  church  meetings,  for, 
though  still  an  elder,  I  am  not  presiding  elder.  1  am  some- 
times connnissioned  to  appear  for  the  church  as  its  Pastor  in 
ecclesiastical  councils.  lam  often  called  to.ofiiciate  here  in 
the  ]5reaching  of  the  word,  in  the  cele1)ration  of  the  Lord's  Sup- 
per, in  the  l)aptism  of  your  children,  in  the  admission  of  mem- 
l)ers,  as  well  as  from  house  to  house  in  funeral  services,  and  on 
other  occasions  of  sorrow  or  of  gladness.  So,  being  still  in 
some  respects  a  I^astor  of  the  Fii'st  Church  of  Christ  in  New 
Haven,  and  ackiujwledging  the  continued  respect  and  kindness 
(far  l)eyond  my  deserving)  shown  me  in  that  relation,  I  have 
invited  you  to  meet  me  hei-e  to-day  for  a  religious  connnemora- 
tion  of  what  took  place  in  this  house  fifty  years  ago. 

The  ninth  of  March,  1825,  was  one  of  those  bright  days 
which    introduce    the    sprino'.      An    ecclesiastical    conncil    had 


llALF-CKN'I'lin'    SKRMON.  TJ  1 

heeii  convened  on  the  preceding  day,  und  had  |)ci't'i»niicd  all  its 
(hity  preliminary  to  the  public  solemnities  of  the  insrallalioii. 
Meeting  again  that  morning,  the  council,  with  the  Pastor-elect 
and  the  committees  of  the  church  and  the  society,  and  with 
clergymen  not  members  of  the  council,  moved  in  a  somewhat 
formal  pi'ocession  fi'om  thc(»ld  lecture-room  in  Orange  street  to 
this  house. 

Of  the  meml)ers  of  tliat  council  there  is  now  not  one  survi- 
vor. The  chui'ch  in  the  Tiiited  Society,  the  chnrch  in  YdK' 
College,  the  church  in  West  Haven,  and  the  First.  South  and 
Xortli  churches  in  Hartford,  were  present  by  delegation,  all 
save  two  of  them  represented  by  both  Pastor  and  messenger. 
The  President  of  Yale  C^dlege,  and  my  innnediate  pi-edecessor. 
then  ill  the  third  year  of  liis  service  as  Professor  in  the  Divinity 
School,  were  also  members  of  the  council  by  personal  invita- 
tion. President  Day  was  moderator,  Professor  P'itch  was 
scribe.  The  public  service  was  begun  with  prayer  by  the  Rev. 
Carlos  Wilcox,  whose  ministry  in  the  North  C^hurch  at  Hart- 
ford had  just  begun  and  w^as  soon  ended.  Another  Hartford 
Pastor,  the  Rev.  Joel  Hawes,  preached  one  of  his  Itest  sermons. 
The  venerable  Father  Stebbins,  of  West  Haven,  oifered  the 
prayer  of  installation.  Dr.  Taylor  gave  the  charge.  The  Rev. 
Samuel  Merwiii,  who  had  been  nineteen  years  the  pastor  in  the 
United  Society,  gave  the  right  hand  of  fellowship,  and  then 
the  closing  prayer  was  offered  by  the  scribe,  Professor  Fitch. 
This  is  not  exactly  like  the  programme  of  a  modern  installation, 
with  its  invocation  and  scripture  reading  before  what  was  once 
the  introductory  prayer,  and  with  its  "  charge  to  the  people," 
borrowed  from  the  Presbj^terian  theory  of  church  government, 
and  too  often  made  the  vehicle  of  unseemly  quips  and  jokes  ; 
but  fifty  years  ago  it  was  enough. 

Fifty  years  ago  I  What  was  I  then  i  Where  am  I  now  < 
Then,  as  I  entered  this  house  in  the  procession,  and  from  the 
high  pulpit  looked  over  the  great  assend)ly,  the  thought  of  the 
responsibility  coming  upon  me,  the  thought  that  within  these 
walls  the  great  work  of  my  life  was  to  be  wrought,  filled  my 
eyes  with  tears.  Yet  how  ignorant  was  I  of  what  things  were 
coming  upon  me  I  How  inadequate  were  my  anticipations  of 
what  niv  work  would  be;    and.  with  all   my  consciousness  of 


122  LEONARD    BACON. 

insufficiency,  how  little  did  I  understand  the  disproportion 
between  myself  and  the  place  into  which  I  was  inducted ! 
To-day,  at  the  end  of  fifty  years,  I  come  into  this  house,  and 
where  am  I  {  The  same  walls  enclose  us ;  the  same  vaulted 
roof  is  over  us ;  the  same  spire  catches  the  slanting  beams  of 
sunrise  and  of  sunset,  the  same  old  graves  are  beneath  us,  but 
what  else  remains  i  Those  into  whose  faces  I  now  look  are  as 
far  removed  in  time  from  those  into  whose  faces  I  looked  that 
day,  as  the  congregation  then  assembled  was  from  the  congre- 
gation in  the  old  "middle  lu-ick"  meeting-house  before  the 
declaration  of  independence,  before  the  battle  of  Bunker  Hill, 
before  the  first  gun  of  the  revolution  was  fired  at  Lexington. 
Those  now  before  me  who  remember  that  installation  are  not 
so  many  as  there  were  in  that  congregation  who  rememl)ered 
the  sacking  of  New  Haven  by  the  British — an  event  which 
seems  to  the  living  generation  like  a  dim  tradition  from  some 
distant  age. 

We,  too,  who  rememl)er,  are  conscious  of  change  in  our- 
selves. We  are  changed  in  our  position  and  relations,  in  our 
views  and  habits — changed  by  all  the  difference  Ijetween  child- 
hood or  youth  and  the  decline  of  life.  Yet  under  the  con- 
sciousness of  change  there  is  a  profounder  consciousness  of 
identity.  Our  thoughts,  in  our  old  age,  are  not  the  same  that 
they  were  fifty  years  ago ;  our  feelings  are  not  the  same ;  we 
look  on  the  world  around  us  as  through  other  eyes  than  those 
of  our  youth ;  we  look  forward  with  very  difl:erent  expecta- 
tions and  desires ;  but  great  as  are  these  changes  in  the  opera- 
tion of  our  minds,  like  the  changes  in  our  bodily  powers  and 
functions,  the  fact  that  we  remember  and  are  at  this  moment 
bringing  into  one  thought  the  present  and  the  past,  implies — 
nay,  is  the  direct  consciousness — that  we  are,  each  one  of  us, 
the  same.  That  which  the  word  "  I "  stands  for,  that  which 
thinks,  and  feels,  and  wills,  is  permanent  through  all  these 
changes.  The  earth  on  which  I  stood  when  I  was  a  child,  is 
the  same,  the  sun  that  shone  upon  me  then  is  the  same,  the 
changeless  north  star  is  the  same,  but  the  identity  of  earth  or 
sun  or  star — the  identity  even  of  a  material  atom  in  all  its  com- 
binations and  through  all  the  ages,  is  not  more  absolute  than 
mine  or  yours.     Changes  sweep  around  us — changes  are  ever 


ilALF-CENTL'llV    SKJiMON.  \2o 

going  on  within  ns,  hut  tlie  nieniorv  of  one's-self  is  the  con- 
sciousness ()f  an  identical,  permanent,  indivisihle  personality. 
That  personal  identity  of  which  we  are  conscious,  running  on 
through  all  changes,  thirty,  fifty,  seventy  years,  and   more — 
must  it  not  continue  through  the  last  change  and  beyond  it  { 
Emotion  may  be  transient  as  the  tear  or  the  smile ;  but  the 
soul  that  remembers  it  is  permanent.     Thought  may  follow 
thought  like  waves  upon  the  shore,  but  that  which  thinks  is 
imperishable.     He  who  holds  that  there  is  thought  without  a 
thinker,  and  memory  with  no  mind  that  rememliers,  and  heroic 
purposes  and  struggle,  but  no  personal  will — or,  more  liriefiy, 
he  who  denies  his  own  personal  existence — may  deny  that  he  is 
to  exist  hereafter.     But  we  who  remember  know  that  we  exist 
— we  know  that  through  all  the  changes  around  us  or  within 
us,  our  indivisible  existence  is  identical ;  and  how  can  we  admit 
that  our  consciousness  of  thought  and  will  and  memory  is  not 
immortal  ?     May  I  not  say  that  He  who  has  brought  life  and 
immortality  to  light  has  made  us  conscious  of  our  immortality  ? 
Something  of  th^t  consciousness  gleams  through  the  words 
which  I  have  selected  as  a  theme  for  this  occasion :  "  O  God, 
Thou  hast  taught  me  from  my  youth."     The  Psalmist,  "  old 
and  gray  headed,"  remembered   the  years  of  long  ago — how 
when  he  was  a  child  he  thought  as  a  child — how  when  he 
became  a  man  he  put  away  childish  things ;  and,  conscious  of 
personal  identity  through  the  changes  of  so  many  years,  he 
was  conscious  that  God  had  been  teaching  him.     Taking  the 
hint  which  these  words  give  me,  I  make  them  my  own :  "  O 
God,   Thou   hast   taught   me  from   my   youth."      Instead  of 
attempting  to  sum  up  the  story  of  the  changes  which  have 
taken  place  in  this  church,  in  our  city,  in  our  country,  and  in 
the  world,  and  w^hich  have  made  this  last  half  century  one  of 
the  most  wonderful  "  in  the  book  of  time,"  I  propose  to  tell 
only  of  some  changes  which  have  been  going  on  in  my  own 
mind ;   and,  in  so  doing,  I  hope  to  preach  not  myself,  but 
Christ  Jesus  the  Lord. 

I.  How  does  God  teach  '(  In  what  methods,  and  by  what 
means  and  processes,  has  he  been  teaching  me  ?  When  I 
shall  have  answered  this  question,  I  will  mention  some  of  the 
lessons  which  I  think  I  have  learned — though  imperfectly— 
under  His  teachino-. 


124  LEONARD    BACON. 

1.  There  is  a  divine  teaching  by  means  of  those  physical 
changes  which  mark  the  progress  from  yonth  to  matm-ity  and 
to  old  age.  God  has  l)een  teaching  me  in  that  way.  You 
may  stand  in  the  morning  sunlight  on  one  of  the  hills  that 
overlook  our  city  from  the  east,  and  then  you  may  come  again 
and  survey  the  same  landscape,  from  the  same  point  of  view, 
in  the  light  of  the  setting  sun.  How  obvious  the  difference 
between  what  you  saw  at  sunrise  and  what  you  see  at  sunset ! 
There  was  no  illusion  in  that  morning  light — there  is  none  in 
the  more  golden  radiance  of  the  later  liour.  What  you  saw, 
when  the  light  was  behind  you  and  all  the  shadows  fell  west- 
Avard,  was  reality ;  and  what  you  see  now,  with  the  shadows 
reversed,  is  equally  real.  But  you  know  the  landscape  l)etter 
by  seeing  it  first  in  the  morning  and  then  in  the  evening,  than 
if  you  saw  it  always  in  the  same  light.  Somewhat  like  this  is 
the  difference  between  the  outlook  of  the  mind  in  the  early 
vigor  of  its  powers  and  its  outlook  in  later  years — a  difference 
in  the  physical  conditions  of  thought  and  knowdedge.  While 
■fifty  years  were  passing,  what  changes  have  there  been  in  the 
brain,  in  the  nerves,  in  the  entire  fabric  of  the  l)ody  which  the 
soul  inhabits.  By  means  of  such  changes  (iod  is  teaching  us. 
Fifty  years  ago,  when  my  eyes  were  young,  when  the  blood  of 
young  manhood  was  in  my  veins,  when  the  fibre  of  the  brain 
had  not  attained  its  maturity,  when  all  the  moods  and  impulses 
of  youth  were  in  full  play,  it  was  not  jiossible  for  me  to  see 
things  as  I  saw^  them  at  the  noon  of  life,  or  as  I  see  them  now. 
Yet  what  God  had  then  already  taught  me  is  incorporated  and 
blended  with  all  that  he  has  been  teaching  me  even  to  this 
day.  If  we  think  of  the  soul  as  born  not  for  this  mortal  life 
only  but  for  a  great  hereafter,  we  realize  in  a  moment  that 
these  successive  changes  in  the  physical  conditions  of  mental 
activity  may  be  as  truly  essential  to  the  soul's  development  as 
were  those  earlier  changes  by  which  the  baby  on  its  mother's 
bosom  grew  to  the  stature  of  a  man.  When  T  lay  helpless  on 
my  mother's  bosom,  (xod,  by  physical  changes — by  growth  of 
brain  and  nerve  and  muscle — made  it  possible  for  me  to  s])eak, 
to  walk,  to  think,  to  work ;  and  so  he  taught  me.  In  like 
manner,  by  all  the  subsequent  changes  which  make  up  the 
life  of  this  material  organism   of  ours.   Tie  has  been   teaching 


iiALF-cEXTrm"  sKinrox.  125 

me  even  to  this  day.  And  it"  there  are  hefore  me  years  of 
senility  and  deereintude,  tliey  too  will  have  their  place  in  the 
plan  of  (iod's  dealini>-  with  my  soul:  and  let  me  say,  to  the 
last,  '•  ()  (lod.  Thou  has  taught  me  from  my  youth.'" 

2.  (rod  teaches  every  one  of  us  hy  means  of  our  association 
with  other  minds ;  in  that  method  lie  lias  been  teaching  me. 
Fi'om  our  infancy  onward,  all  our  teachers  are,  or  ought  to  he, 
(lod's  servants,  teaching  us,  by  the  dii-ect  action  of  their  minds 
on  ours,  what  TTe  would  have  us  learn.  The  direct  action  of 
one  mind  upon  another,  connnunicating  knowledge,  guiding 
and  ({uickening  thought,  training  the  faculties  of  observation 
and  reflection,  touching  the  springs  of  sensihility,  of  con- 
science, and  of  love  or  hate,  and  in  all  these  ways  moulding 
the  character,  is  what  we  ordinarily  mean  by  teaching.  So 
the  mother  and  father  teach  tlieii-  children,  and  tlie  little 
children  of  a  household  teach  one  another,  mind  acting  upon 
mind.  So,  all  our  lives  long.  Me  are  in  close  association  M'ith 
the  minds  around  us,  and,  if  we  are  not  too  unteachable,  they 
are  always  teaching  us. 

It  is  fit  therefore,  as  I  review  God's  dealings  with  me  for 
these  fifty  years,  that  I  make  some  thankful  mention  of  how 
He  has  been  teaching  me  by  means  of  my  association  witli 
other  men,  older  than  myself  or  my  coevals,  superior  to  me  in 
the  gifts  of  nature  and  of  learning,  or  my  equals.  When  I  came 
to  this  pastoral  charge  in  my  inexperience,  and  with  all  the 
rawness  of  my  preparation  for  the  work,  my  immediate  prede- 
cessor, instead  of  being  numbered  M'itli  the  dead  or  removed  to 
some  distant  post  of  duty,  \vas  my  neighbor  and  friend.  I 
was  never  in  any  formal  way  his  jjupil ;  I  did  not  frequent  his 
lecture-room,  but  in  those  early  years  my  intercourse  with  him 
was  constant  and  intimate.  The  direct  influence  of  his  mind 
on  my  thinking  supplemented  my  inadequate  studies  in  theol- 
ogy. He  was  then  already  -far  the  foremost  of  the  living  theo- 
logians of  New  England,  as  he  had  been  one  of  the  foremost 
and  most  successful  of  New  England  Pastors,  and  my  familiar 
intercourse  with  him  taught  me  to  think  and  taught  me  to 
preach.  It  was  hardly  a  less  privilege  to  be  associated  in  the 
same  sort  of  intimacy  with  Professors  Fitch  and  Goodrich,  and 
with   President   Day,  who  was  to  me  as  venerable  then  as  he 

10 


126  LEONARD    BACON. 

could  ever  have  been  to  tliose  who  knew  him  only  in  the  later 
years  of  his  presidency,  or  in  that  calm,  long  evening  of  his 
life  which  was  so  beautiful.  IS^o'r  will  I  refrain  from  mention- 
ing in  this  connection  the  modest  and  worthy  man  who  was 
then  Pastor  of  the  church  in  the  United  Society,  Samuel  Mer- 
win.  He  never  thought  himself  the  peer,  either  in  learning  or 
in  mental  force,  of  the  eminent  men  whom  I  have  just  named ; 
but  he  and  I  were  the  only  Congregational  Pastors  in  the 
town ;  there  was  no  line  of  demarcation  between  our  parishes, 
and  yet  neither  of  us  had  the  faintest  jealousy  of  the  other. 
Our  friendship  was  intimate,  our  intercourse  constant,  our 
mutual  confidence  without  reserve.  His  j^ersonal  acquaintance 
with  the  ways  of  my  two  surviving  predecessors,  and  with 
their  predecessor,  and  his  nineteen  years  of  experience  before 
me  in  the  pastoral  office,  were  an  advantage  to  me ;  and 
through  him  I  became  acquainted  with  the  place,  with  tradi- 
tions and  memories  then  recent,  and  with  the  ideas  and  usages 
of  times  that  were  beginning  to  be  old,  and  were  vanishing 
away. 

Outside  of  New  Haven  there  were  other  ministers,  by 
whom  God  taught  me  in  those  early  days;  one  was  Lyman 
Beecher;  for  though  he  removed  from  Litchfield  to  Boston 
within  a  year  after  my  installation  here,  I  often  saw  him  and 
was  often  present  with  him  in  those  meetings  for  fraternal 
consultation  which  he  loved  ;  and  I  rarely  saw  him  without 
catching  from  him  some  electric  flash  of  thought,  some  pithy 
saying  easily  remembered  for  its  wit,  and  Avortli  remembering 
for  its  wisdom,  some  story  of  his  earlier  or  later  experience  in 
preaching,  or  some  inspiring  suggestion  of  work  to  be  done  for 
Christ  and  for  humanity.  Another  was  Nathaniel  Hewit,  then 
of  Fairfield,  afterwards  of  Bridgeport,  whose  connection  with 
the  Hillhouse  family  often  brought  him  to  this  place.  His 
power  of  fascination  over  a  young  minister  was  like  that  of  the 
poet's  "  ancient  mariner "  over  the  "  wedding  guest ;"  and 
though  I  was  not  betrayed  by  that  fascination  into  an  accept- 
ance of  his  austere  and  (as  I  thought),  unlnlilical  theology,  nor 
into  the  habit  of  seeing  the  present  and  the  near  future  under 
the  sombre  light  which  his  mind  threw  over  them,  I  learned 
from  him  many  a  lesson  which  I  liave  not  forgotten.      And  yet 


llAl.F-OEK'rrHV    SERMON.  127 

anotlier,  undei"  whose  intluonce  1  came  in  those  earl v  years,  and 
whom  I  never  ceased  to  love  and  hoiioi",  was  Thomas  H.  Skin- 
ner, then  of  I*hiladelpliia,  and  afterwards  of  New  York. 
Thron<;'li  a  series  of  years  theiv  was  hardly  a  snmmei'  when  he 
did  not  visit  ns.  His  child-like  simplicity  of  affection  and  of 
trust,  his  power  as  a  preacher,  his  eagerness  to  discuss  the 
most  ditHcult  themes  in  relation  to  the  divine  redemption  and 
i-enovation  of  sinners — all  were  helpful  to  me;  and,  as  I  look 
back  to  my  youth,  I  bless  (lod  for  my  friendship  with  that 
saintly  man. 

It  was  my  thought  to  speak  of  how  God  taught  me  by 
my  friendly  association  with  men  who  though  I  revered  them, 
Avere  not  ministers  of  the  word.  But  should  I  venture  in  that 
direction  the  time  would  fail  me.  I  also  intended  to  speak 
more  at  length  of  some  younger  than  myself,  with  whom  I 
have  been  a  fellow-worker  in  this  ministry,  but  1  must  forbear. 
Yet  there  are  two  names — ^nay,  three — which  I  nnist  mention. 
If  ever  there  was  a  man  with  mental  constitution  utterly  unlike 
mine,  that  man  was  Henry  G.  Ludl(»w;  always  overflowing 
with  demonstrative  affection  and  emotion,  always  ready  to 
l^reach,  and  never  preaching  but  with  a  flame  of  enthusiasm, 
at  one  moment  weeping  in  pity  or  sympathy  and  at  the  next 
moment  laughing  with  some  gush  of  religious  joy.  It  seemed 
almost  as  if  nothing  in  him  was  commensurate  with  anything 
in  me.  Yet  he  loved  me,  and  I  could  not,  if  I  would,  help 
loving  him.  There  was  help  for  both  of  us  in  that  friendship ; 
for  if  men  love  one  another,  working  side  l)y  side,  they  are 
teachino;  one  another  bv  the  very  diversitv^  of  their  grifts.  The 
late  Dr.  Cleaveland  became  pastor  of  the  Third  Church  when 
I  was  in  the  ninth  year  of  my  ministry  here ;  and  then,  for  the 
first  time,  I  found  myself  associated  in  this  half-colleague  rela- 
tion with  a  brother  younger  than  myself — for  he  was  five  or 
six  years  my  junior.  Even  before  his  ordination  we  began  to 
be  on  terms  of  intimacy,  consulting  with  each  other  almost 
daily  as  partners  in  the  same  work.  I  think  that  in  that  inti- 
macy he  learned  something  from  me ;  and  I  am  confident  that 
I  was  taught  something  by  my  sympathy  with  him,  and  my 
endeavors  to  encourage  him  under  the  trials  of  his  early  minis- 
try.    When  he  became,  at  a  somewhat  later  period,  an  alarmist 


12S  LEONARD    BACON. 

in  tlieology,  and,  still  later,  an  extreme  conservative  in  politics, 
<»nr  intimacy  was  sometimes  interrnpted  ;  bnt  there  was  never, 
to  my  knowledge,  any  bitterness  between  us ;  and  I  trust  tliat 
the  mistakes  which  I  thought  I  saw  on  his  part,  taught  me 
something.  I  always  knew  that  he  loved  C Jhrist  and  loved  the 
truth.  And  when  I  think  of  Dr.  Dutton,  I  know  that  my  long 
intimacy  with  him,  never  interrupted  by  a  distrustful  word  or 
thought,  was  a  blessing  to  both  of  us.  If,  in  our  constant 
intercourse,  I  as  an  elder  brother  was  helpful  to  him,  he  as  a 
younger  brother  was  surely  helpful  to  me.  It  was  good  to 
pray  with  him ;  good  to  talk  with  him ;  good  to  work  with 
him.  It  was  good  tt)  share  his  affectionate  and  ever  faithful 
friendship — to  see  how  he  watched  foi-  souls,  and  how  kindly 
he  visited  the  suffering  oi-  the  sorrowing — to  see  his  strenuous 
loyalty  to  justice  and  to  liberty,  bnt  generous  indignation 
against  wrong  done  to  others,  and  his  more  generous  forgetful- 
ness  or  unconsciousness  of  wrong  or  insult  offered  to  himself. 
Dear  Brother  Dutton  I  It  seems  lonesome,  even  now,  to  be 
living  on  without  him. 

Let  me  say  why  I  have  been  so  particular  in  these  state- 
ments— as  much  so  as  I  could  well  be  without  mentioning  the 
name  of  any  living  friend.  It  is  because  I  desired  to  give  my 
testimony  on  this  point  for  the  benefit  of  younger  ministers 
here  present,  and  more  especially  for  the  benefit  of  the  still 
younger  men  who  are  hoping  to  serve  in  this  ministry.  God 
teaches  the  ministers  of  his  word,  and  helps  them  to  make  the 
most  of  what  is  in  them,  l)y  means  of  their  association  with 
other  ministers.  No  man  who  enters  the  ministry  can  afford 
to  cut  himself  off  from  the  benefit  of  constant  intercourse, 
free  and  fraternal,  with  his  neighboring  brethren  in  the  same 
ministry.  When  Pastors  and  other  working  ministers  forsake 
the  assembling  of  themselves  together  in  brotherly  association 
— when  they  lose  the  consciousness  of  partnership  in  a  common 
work,  and  cease  to  meet  for  consultation  and  nmtual  help — 
then  you  may  know  that  the  ministry  is  losing  power  ;  that, 
instead  of  the  union  of  hearts  and  hands  which  comes  from 
conferring  together  about  their  difficulties,  their  successes,  their 
studies  and  their  plans  of  doing  good,  there  will  soon  be  petty 
estrangements  among  them,  and  mean  jealousies,   and   scram- 


iiALF-cKXTrin'  sKiniox.  I'2i> 

hi  in  o;  rivalries — and  tliat,  instead  of  nnitual  ini])rovement,  tliere 
will  1)0,  in  too  many  instances,  no  improvement  at  all.  The 
minister,  however  gifted  or  privileged,  who  conlines  his  views 
to  his  own  parish  as  if  he  had  no  concern  in  anyhody  who  is 
not  or  may  not  become  a  pewdiolder  in  his  congregation,  and 
who  shnts  himself  n])  to  his  own  separate  stndies,  as  if  none  of 
the  brethren  around  him  had  any  interest  in  liiiii  or  any  right 
to  he  benefitted  by  his  attainments,  Avill  by  and  by  grow  stiff 
and  narmw  in  his  w^ays  of  thiid-cing,  and  in  his  isolation  his 
mind  will  shrivel.  When  I  see  a  yonna:  minister  holdinij*  back 
from  fraternal  intimacy  with  his  l)rethren,. recognizing  no  obli- 
gation on  him  to  attend  their  meetings  for  consultation  and 
mutual  help,  taking  an  attitude  and  position  as  of  one  who  is 
above  learning  anything  from  the  slow-going  old-fashioned 
men  who  were  so  unfortunate  as  to  come  into  the  world  a  few 
years  before  him,  and  assuming  that  he  has  nothing  in  the 
world  to  do  but  to  work  his  own  parish  according  to  his  own 
^v^sdom,  T  have  not  much  hope  of  him.  A  sacred  proverb  for- 
bids us  to  indulge  any  large  expectations  concerning  one  who  is 
too  wise  in  his  own  conceit  to  learn  anything  from  his  seniors 
or  from  his  comjDeers. 

For  my  own  part,  I  say  again  with  devout  acknowledgment, 
that  God  has  taught  me  from  ray  youtli  even  to  this  day,  not 
only  in  general  l)y  means  of  my  association  Avith  other  minds 
in  the  various  walks  of  learning  and  of  business,  but  especially 
by  means  of  my  constant  association  with  other  minds  in  the 
same  high  and  sacred  employment  with  myself.  When  I  was 
the  youngest  among  all  the  Pastors  of  the  county  or  of  the 
State,  I  was  taught  by  kindly  intercourse  with  elder  brethren 
wdio  had  known  my  father  l)efore  me;  and,  while  I  have  been 
growing  old  in  years,  T  have  endeavored  to  keep  myself  young 
in  mind  and  spirit  by  familiar  intercourse  with  my  younger 
])rethren. 

8.  T  was  going  to  speak  of  books  as  another  mode  of  the 
action  of  mind  upon  mind  ;  for  in  that  method  (lod  has  taught 
me  from  my  youth,  and  is  still  teaching  me,  but  there  is  no 
time  for  wdiat  I  would  like  to  say  on  that  point.  1  have  nevei- 
been  a  great  reader,  my  life  l)eing  too  l)usy  for  that.  Little  of 
my  time  has  been  spent  in  libraries,  nor  have  I  aspired  to  enii 


130  LEONARD    BACON. 

nence  in  any  department  of  scholarship.  But  yon  kpow  there 
is  one  volume  which,  above  all  others,  has  been  the  study  of 
my  lifetime,  and  the  principles  of  which,  as  revealing  God  to 
men  and  reconciling  men  to  God,  it  has  been  my  life-work  to 
unfold  and  apply.  Other  books  have  been  useful  to  me  chiefly 
as  helps  to  the  understanding  and  exposition  of  that  volume  ; 
and  from  the  beginning  I  have  sought — alas  that  I  have  not 
sought  more  earnestly — to  make  my  ac(piisitions  in  whatever 
direction  subservient  to  the  great  end  of  announcing,  explain- 
ing and  promoting  that  kingdom  of  God  among  men  which  is 
the  one  comprehensive  theme  of  the  Bible.  ]^ot  commenta- 
ries only  and  books  of  learned  exegesis — not  theology  only  in 
systems  and  controversies — but  books  in  every  department  of 
knowledge  have  had  for  me  their  chief  value  in  their  relation 
to  that  one  volume  which  has  been  my  text  l)Ook,  and  which  is 
above  all  others,  and  in  distinction  from  all  others,  God's  own 
book.  Philosophy — history — tlie  physical  sciences  exploring 
all  the  realms  of  nature — the  sciences  of  man,  of  government, 
and  of  that  great  complexity  oi  rights  and  interests  and  duties 
by  which  men  are  connected  with  each  other,  and  which  con- 
stitute society  and  the  State — every  science  that  has  to  do  with 
concrete  realities — must,  sooner  or  later,  pay  tribute  to  Christ 
and  become  subservient  to  his  kingdom.  In  that  conlidence,  T 
have  studied  my  text-book,  and  have  l)eeu  ready  to  receive 
whatever  light  may  fall  upon  its  pages.  I  have  never  had 
any  fear  that,  in  the  progress  of  knowledge,  God  may  be 
eliminated  from  the  universe  or  Christ  from  history.  The  rev- 
elation of  God  reconciling  the  world  to  himself,  is  what  the 
Bible  gives  us,  and  what  science  can  never  take  away. 

4.  Omitting,  then,  all  T  would  gladly  say — and  perhaps  gar- 
rulously— about  some  Ijooks  other  than  the  Bible,  which  have 
been  eminently  helpful  to  me,  I  proceed  to  speak,  brietly,  of 
another  method  in  which  God  has  taught  me  from  my  youth. 
Fifty  years  ago,  when  I  was  younger  than  most  young  men 
are  when  they  enter  a  theological  seminary,  He  who  gives  wis- 
dom to  those  who  ask  it  of  Him  began  to  teach  me  l)y  my 
experience  as  a  Christian  Pastor.  I'or  the  first  two  or  three 
years,  as  might  have  been  expected,  by  some  depressing  expe- 
riences— thei-e  is  uo  need   of  my  describing  them — they  were 


HAT.IM'KNTUKY    SERMON.  181 

such  as  come  (luitc  iiatiii'allj  to  one  iu  the  potjitioii  in  wliicli  1 
found  myself.  I  had  undertaken  a  work  too  great  for  the 
immaturity  of  my  ])owers  and  the  inadequateness  of  my 
pre])aration  for  it.  liut  from  the  first,  I  was  not  without  some 
experience  of  another  sort^the  experience  of  wise  and  gener- 
ous frieudsliip  among  my  people,  and,  better  still,  the  expe- 
rience Avhich  a  Pastor  gains  by  personal  contact  with  souls 
coming  to  him  for  guidance  in  the  way  of  life,  and  led  by  his 
counsel  to  lay  hold  on  the  hope  set  before  them.  And  when, 
ere  the  third  year  of  my  pastorate  was  completed,  there  came 
a  religious  awakening  in  the  congregation,  that  larger  experi- 
ence of  the  joy  of  "  gathering  fruit  unto  life  eternal,"  taught 
me  many  a  lesson  which  I  could  not  have  learned  from  years 
of  converse  with  books  and  of  earnest  meditation.  Then,  and 
thenceforward,  a  new  light  was  thrown  over  my  work  in  the 
pulpit,  in  the  study  and  in  the  parish.  There  was  courage  in 
the  thought  that  my  labor  had  not  been  in  vain  in  the  Lord  ; 
and  that  there  were  among  my  people  so  many  who  loved  me 
because,  under  my  teaching  and  guidance,  in  part,  they  had 
been  introduced  to  the  new  life  in  Christ.  If  I  do  not  deceive 
myself  in  these  reminiscences,  the  people  saw,  and  my  brethren 
in  the  ministry  saw,  that  I  had  learned  something.  Still  I  fell 
short,  far  short,  of  my  own  ideal,  and  of  the  better  and  more 
exjierienced  minister;-  with  whom  I  compared  myself  and  was 
compared  by  others,  but  every  new  reviving  in  the  more  than 
forty  years  of  my  active  pastorate  Avas  a  fresh  experience  of 
God's  teaching.  Not  only  my  public  work  in  preaching  and 
lecture-room  talking,  but  my  work  from  house  to  house  (such 
as  it  was),  my  conference  with  individuals  in  various  stages  of 
religious  thoughtfulness,  my  intercourse  with  the  sick  or  other- 
wise afflicted,  my  funeral  ministrations,  my  words  of  counsel 
and  of  prayer  by  the  l)edside  of  the  dying,  poor  as  at  the  best 
they  must  have  been,  were  the  better  and  the  more  valuable  for 
all  God's  teaching  of  me  by  such  experience. 

5.  I  hasten  to  recognize  one  more  of  the  methods  in  which 
(xod  has  taught  me  from  my  youth,  namely,  by  His  providence 
over  me  and  mine.  The  events  of  every  man's  individual  life, 
the  burthens  laid  upon  him,  his  successes  and  his  disaj)point- 
ments,  the  relations  of  love  and  duty  in  his  home,  the  joys  and 


132  LEONARD    BACON. 

griefs  that  alternately  brighten  and  darken  his  dwelling — these 
and  the  like  are  what  we  call  God's  special  providence  over 
him;  and  they  are,  from  beginning  to  end,  a  discipline  by 
which  God  is  teaching  him,  I  think  to-day  of  what  God's 
providence  over  me  has  been  for  three  and  seventy  years.  I 
recall  the  first  dawning  of  memory  and  the  days  of  my  early 
childhood  in  the  grand  old  woods  of  New  Clonnecticut,  the 
saintly  and  self-sacriheing  father,  the  gentle  yet  heroic  mother^ 
the  log  cal)in,  from  whose  window  we  sometimes  saw  the  wild 
deer  bounding  through  the  forest  glades,  the  four  dear  sisters 
whom  I  helped  to  tend,  and  whom  it  was  my  joy  to  lead  in 
their  tottering  infancy — yes,  God's  providence  over  me  was  even 
then  teaching  me.  Our  home  life,  the  snow^y  winter,  the  blos- 
soming spring,  the  earth  never  jjloughed  before  and  yielding 
its  first  crop  to  human  labor,  the  giant  trees,  the  wild  flowers, 
the  wild  birds,  the  blithesome  squirrels,  the  wolves  which  we 
heard  howling  through  the  woods  at  night,  the  bears  which  we 
children  heard  of  and  feared,  but  never  saw,  the  redskin  savage 
sometimes  coming  to  the  door,  by  these  things  (iod  was  making 
impressions  on  my  soul  that  must  remain  forever,  and  without 
which  I  should  not  have  been  what  I  am.  I  remember  my 
later  boyhood  in  another  home  and  amid  other  surroundings — 
the  petty  mortiflcations  and  occasional  hardships  incidental  to 
my  position — the  moral  dangers  which  might  have  been  my 
ruin  but  out  of  which  I  was  strangely  delivered — the  circum- 
stances that  awakened,  from  time  to  time,  something  of  reli- 
gious sensil)ilitv — the  opportunities  and  means  of  learning 
which  were  given  me,  inadequate,  yet  inestimalile.  God's  care 
was  over  me  then,  and  by  His  providence  He  was  teaching  me. 
I  remember  how,  when  my  father  had  found  rest  in  his  grave, 
and  my  mother  was  a  helpless  though  not  friendless  widow, 
God  answered  their  prayer  for  their  iirst-born,  and  brought  me 
to  Yale  College.  And  here  God  taught  me  not  only  by  the 
ministry  of  tutors  and  professors,  with  their  text-books  and 
their  lectures,  but  also  by  His  special  providence  over  lue. 
The  penury  and  dependence,  the  ])rivations  and,  I  may  say, 
hardships,  as  well  as  the  opportunities  of  those  years,  were 
comprehended  in  the  discipline  by  \vlii<'li  (iod  was  training 
me.      l')Ut  wliy  do  I  sjxnik  of   tliesc  tliing>^      It  is  iii(H\'  ai)pi-o- 


HALF-CENTIRY    SERMON.  1 1^8 

priate  for  lue  to  say,  on  this  occasion,  tliat  through  these  last 
fifty  years  (tocI's  providence  over  nie  and  mine  lias  l)een  a  con- 
stantly instructive  discipline.  He  gave  nie  a  wife  whose  dear 
memory  is  tenderly  cherished,  even  now,  hy  all  who  knew  her 
and  continue  to  this  day.  A¥e  set  up  our  home  in  humble 
fashion,  and  He  hallowed  it  and  made  it  happy.  He  gave  us 
children  to  love  with  that  exquisite  affection  which  parents 
know.  He  kept  us  poor,  hut  we  had  food  and  raiment,  and 
somehow  they  were  paid  for.  We  had  no  certain  dwelling- 
place  ;  but  wherever  our  hired  house  was  for  the  time,  no 
house  in  the  town  was  more  gladsome  with  the  voices  of  chil- 
dren. For  more  than  fifteen  years  the  shadow  of  death  never 
fell  upon  our  home.  1  had  known  sorrow,  but  there  were 
some  sorrows  which  I  had  never  tasted.  At  last  it  came,  and 
when  my  youngest  born — just  old  enough  to  wonder  why  his 
father  could  not  help  him — was  dying  in  my  arms,  after  a 
short,  sharp  illness,  ending  with  the  agony  of  suffocation,  ah ! 
that  was  a  new  experience,  and  (4od  was  teaching  me  by  it. 
Then,  after  two  more  children  had  been  born,  and  we  had 
lived  a  little  while  in  the  house  which  we  could  call  our  own,  the 
wife  and  mother  died,  and  the  pleasant  house  was  desolate. 
Well  did  I  know  in  that  dark  day,  that  (rod's  providence  was 
teaching  me.  The  children  He  had  left  me  were  dearer  than 
ever  for  her  sake  as  well  as  for  their  o\vn  sake,  and  closely  did 
they  cling  to  me.  By  my  struggles  for  them,  and  by  the  ear- 
nest endeavors  of  the  older  ones  to  lighten  their  father's  bur- 
then, (Tod  was  teaching  me.  By  that  entire  experience  God 
taught  me — opening  to  my  soul  the  treasures  of  His  Avord,  giv- 
ing me  some  new  (jualifications  for  the  ministry,  by  which 
those  treasures  are  dispensed.  Three  years  had  been  almost 
completed  when  a  new  mother,  bringing  with  her  all  a  true 
mother's  love  and  patience,  was  given  t(t  my  children  ;  and 
what  she  has  been  to  them  and  to  me,  through  nmch  infirmity 
and  suffering — what  reason  they  have  and  I  have  to  bless  God 
in  her  behalf — need  not  be  told  to  any  who  know  what  my 
home  has  been  for  the  last  eight  and  twenty  years. 

But  I  must  refrain.  I  have  said  enough  to  show  what,  a 
conviction  I  have  that  all  my  life  long,  and  especially  through 
the  last  fifty  years.  God's  providence  over  me  has  l>een  a  disci- 


134  LEONARD    BACOX. 

pline,  teaching  me,  training  ine,  making  all  changes  subser- 
vient to  the  progress  of  my  intellectual  and  spiritual  being. 
Our  life  itself  in  this  world  is  one  continued  course  of  educa- 
tion and  teaching  by  the  providence  of  Ilim  who  created  us 
for  immortality. 

II.  I  promised  to  mention  some  of  the  lessons  which  I 
think  I  have  learned  within  these  fifty  years  under  God's 
teaching.  But  in  attempting  to  redeem  that  promise  I  will  not 
weary  you.     Suggestions  merely  nmst  suffice  instead  of  details. 

"O  God,  Thou  hast  taught  me  from  my  youth."  What  has 
God  taught  mie  ?  What  have  I  gained  from  His  teaching  ? 
(1.)  I  have  gained,  from  one  stage  of  progress  to  aiiother, 
clearer  and  more  just  conceptions  of  Christian  truth.  My 
progress  in  that  sort  of  knowledge  was  not  ended  when  I  came 
from  Andover;  it  is  not  ended  yet.  I  know  more  to-day — 
more  adequately  and  exactly — what  God  reveals  to  us  by  the 
Bible,  than  I  knew  fifty  years  ago — more  than  I  knew  ten 
years  ago ;  and  I  am  still  a  learner,  and  hope  to  be  a  learner  to 
the  end.  (2.)  It  is  partly  by  those  clearer  and  more  just  con- 
ceptions of  ( Uiristian  truth,  that  I  have  gained  a  broader  liber- 
ality of  judgment  in  regard  to  theological  and  ecclesiastical 
difEerences  among  (Christians,  and  a  corresponding  enlargement 
of  sympathy  with  all  who  follow  Christ.  I  trust  I  am  as  far 
as  ever  from  the  liberality  of  indifferentism,  but  God  has 
taught  me,  afe  He  is  teaching  His  churches  everywhere,  that 
they  who  believe  on  the  Lord  .Jesus  Christ  and  folloM'  Him  are 
agreed  in  the  main  thing  and  may  agree  to  difler  in  other 
things.  (3.)  By  the  same  teaching  I  have  gained  better  views 
of  what  C^hristian  experience  is,  and  of  how  the  Christian  life 
begins  and  is  sustained  and  manifested.  Long  ago  I  learned 
and  began  to  teach — what  I  did  not  adequately  know  at  the 
beginning  of  my  ministry — that  experience,  however  con- 
formed to  any  tradition  of  what  conversion  and  regeneration 
ought  to  be — must  be  tested  by  the  character  and  not  the  char- 
acter by  the  experience,  and  that  wherever  the  ( 'hristian  chai-- 
acter  appears  in  the  authentic  ''  fruits  of  the  Spirit  '^ — there  is 
no  need  of  inquiring  for  the  story  of  the  psychological  process 
in  which  the  character  began  ;  and  thus  I  am  learning,  more  and 
more,  to  recognize  as  belonging  to  ('hrist  all  who  profess  and 


IIALF-CKNTrHY    SERMON.  185 

seem  to  love  Iliiii.  (4.)  I  luivo  also  i>;aiiK'(l,  mid  am  <i,aining", 
by  the  same  method,  better  ai)])re]ieii.sioiis  and  a  more  firmly 
grounded  faith  concerning  the  future  of  Christ's  work  and 
kingdom  in  the  world. 

That  future,  I  am  sure  of  it,  and,  though  1  know  only  in 
part,  I  know  better  than  I  once  knew,  what  it  will  be.  It  is 
impossible  for  one  who  remend)ers  the  last  fifty  years — the 
most  eventful  half-century  in  the  world's  history,  not  to  believe 
that  Christ  will  reign  over  all  nations — that  the  spirit  of  Christ 
will  ])ervade  all  literature,  that  all  philosophy  will  pay  homage 
to  His  gospel,  that  the  progress  of  science  and  of  all  the  arts 
subservient  to  human  welfare  will  facilitate  the  progress  of  the 
gospel  till  it  shall  have  conquered  the  world,  and  that  the 
wheels  of  time  are  revolving  swiftly  to  bring  the  day  when 
voices  shall  be  heard  on  high  "  jjraising  (xod  and  saying  the 
kingdoms  of  this  world  have  become  the  kingdoms  of  our 
Lord  and  of  His  Christ." 

Yes,  I  liave  seen  the  coming  of  the  glory  of  the  Lord.  I 
bless  God  that  1  have  lived  in  such  a  world  as  this,  and  have 
had  my  humble  part,  my  work  to  do,  in  such  an  age  as  this. 
Why  should  I  not  say,  when  the  hour  of  my  departure  comes, 
"  Now  lettest  Thou  Thy  servant  depait  in  peace,  for  mine  eyes 
have  seen  Thy  salvation  f 

I  cannot  close  better  than  by  reading  the  following,  which  I 
would  ask  you  to  sing  if  we  had  not  lost  our  good  old  hynm 
books : 

My  (iud,  lay  eveiiastiug  liope, 

I  live  upon  Thy  truth  ; 
Thy  hands  have  held  my  childhood  up 

And  strengthened  all  my  youtli. 

Still  has  my  life  new  wonders  seen 

Repeated  every  j'ear. 
Behold  my  days  that  yet  remain, 

I  trust  them  to  Thy  care. 

Cast  me  not  ofi'  when  strength  declines, 

When  hoary  hairs  arise. 
And  round  me  let  Thy  glory  shine 

Whene'er  Thy  servant  dies. 

Then  in  the  history  of  my  age, 

When  men  review  my  days. 
They'll  read  Thy  law  in  every  page, 

In  every  line  Thy  praise. 


SERMON 

Preached  by  Rev.  T. eonard  Bacon,  D.l^., 

November   24,  1881. 


Psalm  cxlvii,  20. — He  hath  not  dealt  so  with  any  nation  :    and  as  for  his 

JUDGMENTS  THEY  HAVE    NOT  KNOWN  THEJI.       PRAISE  YE  THE  LORD. 

I  attempt  this  .service  with  hesitation  because  of  my  bodily 
infirmity,  though  the  service  is  to  me  a  privilege.  Nothing  is 
more  probable  than  that  this  is  my  last  opportunity  of  preach- 
ing a  Thanksgiving  sermon.  Therefore,  having  the  opportunity, 
I  make  the  attempt,  trusting  that  you  will  hear  me  with  kind 
allowance  for  my  failing  strength. 

Formerly,  the  Thanksgiving  festival  was  cliaracteristic  of  the 
New  England  States — each  State  by  itself  appointing  a  day  for 
the  public  acknoMdedgment  of  (iod's  goodness  in  the  circling 
year.  But  now,  our  kindred — the  children  of  our  New  Eng- 
land fathers — have  spread  themselves  over  the  breadth  of  the 
continent ;  and  tliey  have  carried  with  them,  into  all  the  States 
and  Territories,  some  remembrance  or  tradition  of  wdiat  the  old 
Tlianksgiving  was  in  New  England  congregations  and  New 
England  homes  ;  and  so,  at  last,  the  "  venerable  usage  "  is  char- 
acteristic of  the  American  people.  We  meet  to-day  not  only 
at  the  call  of  our  own  Governor  but  also  at  the  call  of  the  Pres- 
ident of  the  United  States.  We  meet  not  only  as  citizens  of 
this  old  commonwealth,  but  as  citizens  also  in  that  great  union 
of  commonwealths  which  we  call  the  nation. 

This  is  therefore  a  national  giving  of  thanks ;  and  we  meet 
in  this  temple  that  we  may  devoutly  acknowledge  God's  wise 


188  LEONARD    BACON. 

and  gracious  providence  over  our  common  conntry.  We  might 
find  matter  for  devoutly  tliankfid  meditation  in  God's  goodness 
toward  tliis  city  of  New  Haven,  or  toward  our  own  Connecti- 
cut; but  let  us  rather  occupy  the  hour  with  thoughts  about 
(rod's  dealings  with  this  great  fellowship  of  States — especially 
during  the  year  now  drawing  to  its  close. 

As  we  turn  oui*  thoughts  in  that  direction,  one  terrible  fact 
seems  to  darken  the  whole  field  of  vision.  On  the  fourth  of 
March,  James  A.  (lariield  was  inaugurated  President,  and  a 
new  era  of  peace  and  splendor  over  (uir  whole  country  seemed 
to  have  begun.  The  people  had  placed  him  in  the  chair  of 
Washington  and  of  Lincoln  because  they  trusted  him ;  and 
when  they  saw  his  modest  dignity  in  that  high  station,  the 
statesmanlike  way  in  which  he  entered  on  his  work,  and  at  the 
same  time  the  republican  simplicity  of  the  man  and  the  ('hris- 
tian  beauty  of  his  domestic  life,  their  admiring  confidence  in 
him  grew  stronger  day  by  day.  The  P]ast  and  the  West,  the 
Xorth  and  the  South,  were  all  hoping  great  things  from  the 
four  years  of  his  administration.  But  on  tlie  second  of  July — 
two  days  less  than  four  months  from  his  inauguration — he  was 
mortally  wounded  by  an  assassin's  l)ullet ;  and  as  the  intelli- 
gence was  flashed  from  the  capital,  the  whole  nation  was  aghast 
with  horror,  and  all  good  citizens  of  every  party  felt  that  they 
had  never  known  before  how  much  they  trusted  him  and  loved 
him.  Seventy-nine  days  his  constitutional  strength  of  body, 
sustained  by  his  heroic  will,  resisted  death ;  and  then  he  died. 
Every  day  of  that  protracted  agony  had  endeared  him  to  the 
people,  for  the  whole  nation  was  watching  as  it  were  at  his  bed- 
side. As  they  saw  the  efforts  of  medical  science  and  surgical 
skill,  hope  alternating  with  discouragement — as  they  saw  that 
gentle  yet  strong-hearted  wife  nursing  her  hero,  suppressing  her 
tears  and  choking  down  lier  anguish  that  she  might  cheer  him 
with  her  familiar  tones  and  smiles — as  they  saw  his  patience 
like  the  patience  of  a  martyr,  his  cheerful  trust  in  (irod,  his 
(Christian  readiness  to  die — they  loved  him  as  a  brother ;  manly 
voices  broke  at  the  mention  of  his  name;  thousands  even  of 
those  who  were  not  much  given  to  prayer  cried  :  Pray  for  him  ; 
and  when  he  died,  there  was  never  before  a  national  grief  so 
deep  and  so  wide.     Where,  between  the  two  oceans,  was  the 


mS   LAST   SERMON.  KV.t 

man  who   did   not  feci   the  national    bcivavcnient  as  a   pei'soiial 

SOl'l'OW  t 

Tlii.s  national  calamity — this  unanimous  national  grief — is 
what  confronts  us  first  and  most  conspicuously  as  we  look  hack 
upon  the  yeai'.  Ass(.'nd)lini>'  in  the  house  of  Ood  to-day.  we 
feel  that  it  is  oidy  a  few  days  since  we  met  here  to  l)ear  oui- 
part  in  the  funei'al  solemnity  so  far  away  and  yet  so  near.  How 
can  we  keep  a  national  thanksgiving  under  so  dark  a  cloud  ( 
— Hoiof  Have  we  never  learned  that  Christian  song  which 
tells  us  that 


and  that 


"  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way 
His  wonders  to  perform," 

'■  Behind  a  frowning  providence 
He  hides  a  sniiHns:  face  '"? 


Do  we  not  know  that  what  we  see  is  the  dark  side  of  the  cloud, 
and  that,  beyond  it  there  is  the  splendor  of  the  sky ''.  Nay,  do 
we  not  already  catch  some  glimpses  of  the  "•  silver  lining ''  { 
Do  we  not  see  the  cloud  breaking  and  its  edges  tinged  with 
gold  and  crimson  ? 

A  devout  man,  l^elieving  in  God's  father-care  over  him,  learns 
to  say,  in  ^'iew  of  remembered  disappointments  and  Ijereave- 
ments,  "  It  was  good  for  me  to  be  afflicted,'"  and  so  he  can  be 
thankful  even  for  the  discipline  of  sorrow.  May  not  God's 
care  for  the  welfare  of  a  favored  nation — not  less  than  his  lov- 
ing providence  over  his  individual  children,  manifest  itself, 
sometimes,  in  visitations  of  calamity  I  In  the  light  of  this  con- 
sideration let  us  think  of  how  God  has  been  dealing  with  us  as 
a  nation  while  the  cloud  was  hanging  over  us. 

First,  then,  we  have  this  to  be  thankful  for  in  connection  with 
that  great  national  sorrow — the  call  to  prayer  was  not  unheeded 
by  the  people.  On  the  thii'd  day  of  July  last,  that  apostolic 
direction  concerning  pul)lic  worship :  "  I  exhort  that,  first  of  all, 
supplications,  prayers,  intercessions,  and  giving  of  thanks,  be 
made  for  all  men  ;  for  kings  and  for  all  that  are  in  authorit}', 
that  we  may  lead  a  quiet  and  peaceable  life  in  all  godliness 
and  honesty," — was  observed,  and  it  has  been  observed  ever 
since  that  day,  as  I  think  it  had  not  been  observed  for  a  long 
time  previous.     I  have  had  occasion,  at  intervals  within  the  last 


140  LEONARD    BACOK. 

Hfteen  years,  to  take  notice  of  the  fact  (as  others  have  taken 
notice  of  it)  tliat  when  onr  worshiji  in  this  house  on  the  Lord's 
day  has  been  led  by  occasional  })reachers,  instead  of  being  led 
by  a  Pastor  in  charge  of  the  flock,  the  prayers  have  not  always 
made  mention  of  the  men.  entrusted  with  authority  in  the  State 
and  in  the  Union.  Indeed,  if  T  mistake  not,  prayer  for  the 
government  and  the  men  who  administer  it — prayer  for  the 
sovereign  people,  and  for  governors  and  others  commissioned 
by  the  people  to  administer  oui-  public  affairs  and  to  provide 
for  the  common  welfare — has  been  the  exception  rather  than 
the  rule  in  our  Lord's  day  assemblies.  I  cannot  but  think  that 
it  has  been  so  elsewhere,  and  too  generally  throughout  our 
country.  Tn  Protestant  Episcopal  congregations,  prayer  for  the 
President  and  for  others  in  authoi'ity  is  offered  every  Lord's 
day  through  the  year ;  prayer  especially  for  Congress  whenever 
Congress  is  in  session.  The  same  sort  of  prayei-  is  t>ffered  in 
churches  of  other  names,  if  it  so  happens  that  the  minister  who 
conducts  the  worship  is  one  whose  ideas  and  w^ays  are  in  some 
degree  old  fashioned.  But  there  seem  to  be  some  ministers, 
and  I  fear  there  ai*e  many,,  who  are  hardly  aware  that  the  assem- 
bly (jn  the  Lord's  day  in  the  Loi-d's  house  is,  first  of  all,  an 
assembly  for  prayer,  and  still  less  aware  that,  of  all  prayer-meet- 
ings, that  meeting  of  the  church  and  of  all  who  join  with  it  in 
public  worship  ought  to  be  the  most  solemn  and  most  effective. 
Too  often  the  thought  seems  to  be  that  prayer  and  hymns  (and 
sometimes  perhaps  prayer  and  music)  are  appropriate  and  help- 
ful as  accessories  to  the  sermon,  and  that  the  people  come  to- 
gether as  hearers  only  rather  than  as  worshipers. 

But  on  that  third  day  of  July  last,  all  over  the  breadth  of  the 
continent,  the  feeling  in  every  congregation  was  that  they  had 
come  together  "first  of  all"  for  ''supplications,  prayers,  inter- 
cessions ;"  and  that  they  must  pray  for  the  President  of  the 
United  States.  The  assassin's  shot  startled  the  nation  as  if  the 
apostolic  direction  about  public  worship  in  Christian  assemblies 
had  been  repeated  in  thunder.  Thenceforward,  week  after 
week,  while  the  President  lingered  between  life  and  death — 
Sabbath  after  Sabbath  whether  it  was  the  Christian  Sabbath  or 
the  Jewish — prayer  went  up  in  his  behalf  from  all  assemblies. 
Whethei-  the  meeting-place  was  a   cathedral   or  a  cabin,  it  was 


HIS    LAST    SKUMON.  141 

felt  to  he  a  place  for  |)i-ayer,  and  tlie  hui'tlien  of  ])i-aver  was 
eveiywhere  tliat  one  hni-tlien  of  anxiety  and  sorrow  wliieli  was 
on  the  heart  of  the  |)eo])le. 

Tlie  slioek,  then,  which  went  thfony-h  tlie  nation  with  the 
rt'j)ort  of  tliat  nnii'(k'rinu-  pistol,  was  a  call  to  j)rayer.  aiid  the 
call  was  not  unlieeded.  If  it  is  a  fact,  as  1  trnst  it  is.  that,  in 
onr  w<)i-8hi])iug  assend>Hes,  hoth  ministers  and  })eople  have  heen 
learninij;  a  lesson  ahont  what  heloni>'s  to  pnhlic  worslii]),  and 
that  henceforward  the  Sahhath  prayer  for  the  President  of  the 
United  States  and  all  otliers  in  authority  shall  he  as  inse])aral)le 
from  the  connnon  j)rayei-  of  all  the  chni'ches  as  it  is  from  the 
common  ])i'ayei'  of  Protestant  K])iscopal  congregations,  shall  we 
not  he  thankful  for  the  lesson  g'reat  as  is  the  cost  of  it  ( 

I  know  there  are  those  who  silently  or  openly  are  asking, 
What  is  the  nse  of  sucli  prayei- ^  The  thought  is  in  some 
hearts.  All  that  ])rayer  hroiight  hack  no  answer;  we  prayed, 
and  the  whole  nation  i)rayed  that  the  wounded  President  might 
live,  bnt  he  is  dead,  and  what  was  the  use  of  all  that  prayer'^ 
What  the  use  of  prayer  I  That  is  an  old  question, — older  than 
the  book  of  Job.  T.ong  before  any  prayer-guage  or  23rayer-test 
was  thought  of,  a  certain  sort  of  men  could  say,  "  What  is  the 
Almighty  that  we  should  serve  him,  and  what  -proHi  should  w^e 
have  if  we  pray  to  him  V  I  have  known  believing  souls  who, 
though  they  could  not  leave  off  praying,  were  perplexed  by 
what  seemed  to  them  the  inefficacy  of  their  prayers.  They  had 
prayed,  and  our  Father  who  is  in  heaven  had  not  given  them 
what  they  desired  and  hoped  for.  Some  such,  |)erhaps,  are 
here  to-day, — perplexed  and  l)eclouded  w^ith  speculations  about 
the  efficacy  of  prayer.  We  pi-ayed,  they  are  saying  in  their 
hearts — we  prayed,  and  tens  of  thousands  joined  w^ith  us  in  the 
prayer  that  the  illustrious  sufferei'  might  live ;  but  all  that 
prayer  remains  unanswered, — he  is  dead  ;  what  profit  had  we  i 
But  think,  O  doubting  soul,  think!  What  is  prayer^  Is  it 
dictation  i  or  supplication  (  Does  it  command  God  wdiat  to  do 
and  what  to  refrain  from  doing ;  or  does  it  bow  down  before 
him  in  the  spirit  of  submission  to  his  will  ^  What  is  prayer 
but  the  cry  of  dependent  and  short-sighted  creatures  appealing 
to  the  infinite  love  and  the  iniinite  wisdom  of  God  i  Is  it  your 
theoi'v  that  your  pi-ayei-  is  unanswered  and  lost  unless  your 
11 


142  LEONARD    BACON. 

desire  and  youi-  wisdom  can  be  permitted  to  overrule  the 
counsels  of  God  'i  Have  you  a  right  to  say  that  your  prayer  is 
not  heard  or  not  answered,  if  it  does  not  suspend  the  operation 
of  those  physical  laws  and  forces  which  God  established  in  his 
work  of  creation,  and  by  which  he  rules  the  world  in  his  provi- 
dence '(  I  know  there  is  a  cui'rent  theoi'v  which  implies  all 
this — a  theory  by  which  religious  souls  are  often  darkened  and 
distressed,  and  which  unljelievers  hold  when  they  would  en- 
courage themselves  and  otliers  in  an  atheist  life.  It  will  be  a 
great  thing  for  the  health  of  the  churches  and  for  the  growth 
of  pure  and  true  religion  in  our  country,  if  this  great  instance 
of  what  such  believers  and  such  unbelievers  call  unanswered 
prayer  shall  open  tlie  eyes  as  well  as  hearts  of  all  (Christian 
worshipers  to  that  other  and  true  theory  which  makes  absolute 
deference  to  God's  wisdom,  with  childlike  submission  to  his 
will,  an  essential  element  in  prayei".  Thus  it  was  that  Paul 
])rayed  so  earnestly  and  persistently  foi*  relief  from  his  thorn  in 
his  flesh,  and  was  answered  by  the  promise  "  My  grace  is  suffi- 
cient for  thee."  Thus  our  Lord  Jesus  prayed,  "  O  my  Father, 
if  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  me ;  nevertheless,  not  as 
I  will  but  as  thou  wilt.""  Often  the  God  of  our  salvation 
answers  prayer  '"by  terrible  things  in  righteousness.'''  It  is 
mere  unbelief  to  say,  or  to  think,  that  the  prayer  of  this  nation 
for  its  wounded  and  dying  President  was  all  in  vain. 

Let  us  then  hold  fast  our  faith  not  only  that  God  is,  but  that 
lie  is  a  rewarder  of  them  wdio  diligently  seek  him.  We  pray, 
"  Give  us  tliis  day  our  daily  bread,"  and  it  is  our  privilege  to 
see  by  faith  the  hand  that  feeds  us.  If  we  thus  pray,  our  daily 
bread  is  God's  answer  to  our  daily  prayer.  True,  he  feeds  the 
ravens  also  that  have  not  sense  enough  to  pray,  and  he  feeds 
myriads  of  men  that  never  pray.  But  those  men,  senseless  of 
God  as  the  ravens  are,  live  on  a  lower  level  of  existence  than 
that  on  which  men  walk  with  God.  Here  is  the  ti'ue  idea  of 
prayer.  If  we  pray  in  spirit  and  in  trutli,  prayer  brings  us 
into  communion  with  God  and  into  a  familiar  friendshi])  with 
liim.  It  is  a  mistake  to  think  tliat  an  outburst  of  religious 
feeling  or  any  glow  and  rapture  of  meditation  is  prayer.  The 
man  who  prays  has  something  to  ask  for — business,  as  it  were, 
to  be  transacted  at  the  tlii-one  of  giace.     He  has  need  of  God's 


Ills    LAST    SKRMON.  14.". 

lit'lj)  ill  ivlatidii  to  this  life  and  in  relation  to  the  life  hereafter; 
he  has  work  to  do;  lie  has  duties,  cares,  affections,  hoi)es  and 
fears;  and  he  liriiius  them  to  his  Father.  That  Fathei'  knows 
him.  cares  f(»r  him,  listens  to  him.  and  answers  him  with  hless- 
injis.  (iod  is  his  friend,  is  with  him  in  his  daily  life,  is  taking- 
care  that  all  thin^-s  shall  work  toi;-ether  for  ii;ood  to  him.  (fod's 
friendshi]i  is  worth  more  to  him  than  the  ntmost  prosperity  of 
those  who  are  without  (rod  in  the  world  can  he  to  them. 

The  friendshi])  of  (io<l  is  as  iiin)oi'tant  to  a  nation  as  to  an 
individual  or  a  family;  and  as  (-Jod  hefriended  Israel  of  old,  so 
he  has  befriended  this  nation  hitherto.  And  may  we  not 
accept  it  -as  a  token  of  his  friendship,  that  lie  lias  so  loudly  and 
shai-])ly  roused  us  to  the  duty  and  the  piivilege  of  prayer  for 
those  to  whom  the  great  trusts  of  government  are  committed. 
That  sort  of  religion  which  is  too  spiritual  to  pray  for  anything 
so  mundane  and  secular  as  civil  government  in  the  State  and 
the  nation,  is  too  spiritual  for  this  world  of  work  and  conflict. 
Let  it  retreat  into  cells  and  cloisters,  let  it  hide  itself  in  caves 
and  deserts;  Init  let  us  have  a  religion  that  can  ])ray  as  (iod 
would  ha\'e  us  ])ray  for  all  that  are  in  authority — for  the  sover- 
eign people,  for  the  President  as  the  prime  minister  of  that 
sovereign,  for  governor  and  legislators,  for  senators  and  judges. 
Wo  to  this  land  of  ours,  with  all  its  riches  and  all  its  historic 
glory,  when  the  notion  shall  have  prevailed  that  government  in 
this  nation,  with  all  that  concerns  our  political  existence  and 
activity,  is  too  profane  a  thing,  too  much  within  the  jurisdiction 
of  the  god  of  this  world,  to  be  prayed  for  or  thought  of  in  the 
churches,  (iod  has  warned  us  to  pray  and  faint  not.  Let  us 
be  thankful  for  the  warning. 

Another  and  more  obvious  effect  of  our  national  sorrow  may 
well  be  regarded  as  a  benefit  for  which  the  nation  should  give 
thanks.  The  murder  of  the  President,  with  that  long  suspense 
between  the  shooting  and  the  death,  has  made  the  nation  more 
conscious  of  its  unity  than  ever  before.  The  shock  of  that 
great  cnme  was  felt  with  equal  horror  on  the  shore  of  either 
ocean,  and  through  all  the  States  from  the  northern  frontier  to 
the  southern.  It  was  felt — may  we  not  say  with  confidence 
and  therefore  with  thanksgiving  i — it  was  felt  not  more  in  New 
York  than  at  Xew  Orleans,  not  more  in  Boston  than  in  Charles- 


144-  LEONARD   EACOK. 

ton,  not  more  in  Cliicago  than  at  Mobile,  not  more  here  in 
New  Haven  than  in  Ricliniond.  Twenty  years  had  passed 
since  the  ontbnrst  of  a  civil  wai*  that  was  to  dissolve  the  Union, 
and  sixteen  years  since  the  surrender  of  ''the  lost  cause."  The 
process  of  reconstruction  with  all  its  painful  and  exasperating 
incidents  had  l)een  completed.  The  South  and  the  North  were 
slowly  yet  manifestly  coming  into  relations  of  amity  and  mutual 
respect.  But  still  there  seemed  to  remain  some  hot  embers  in 
the  ashes  of  old  enmity,  and  there  was  the  possibility  that  those 
embers  might  by  some  malignant  breath  of  faction  be  kindled 
into  rage.  May  we  not  say  to-day  that  the  last  endiers  of  enndty 
between  the  North  and  South  have  been  extinguished  in  the 
common  sorrow  i!  Among  the  people  who,  only  sixteen  years 
ago,  laid  down  their  arms  before  the  victorious  forces  of  the 
Union,  there  was  no  other  feeling  than  that  a  horrilile  crime 
had  been  committed  against  them.  Their  President  had  l)een 
shot  and  not  merely  a  Northern  President ;  the  horror  and  the 
grief  were  theirs  and  not  ours  only.  The  negroes  of  the  South 
and  those  who  had  been  their  masters  mourned  together  and 
lifted  up  their  hands  in  prayer  with  one  accord.  In  the  first 
horror,  in  the  long  anxiety,  in  the  national  grief  and  funeral, 
there  was  an  awakened  consciousness — thrilling  from  the  North 
to  the  South  and  from  ocean  to  ocean — that  we  are  one  people. 

Thus  when  to  the  industrial  exhibition  in  the  chief  city  of 
Georgia  there  came  the  products  of  the  South  and  the  machin- 
ery of  the  North,  all  saw,  all  felt,  and  all  rejoiced  to  feel  that 
in  this  great  Union  of  States  there  are  no  antagonist  interests ; 
that  the  prosperity  of  each  contributes  to  the  prosperity  of  all ; 
and  that  if  one  member  suffer  all  the  members  suifer  with  it. 

There  is  yet  another  consideration  pressing  upon  us.  C^an  we 
forget  the  expressions  of  international  regard  and  sympathy 
that  were  called  forth  by  our  affliction^  There  is  no  need  of 
my  telling  you  what  they  were.  Let  me  rather  ask.  What  did 
they  signify^  What  do  they  signify  to  us  as  we  remend)er 
them  ?  When  the  sovereign  of  the  British  empire — -Queen  and 
Empress — was  sending  her  messages  of  tender  and  anxious 
inquiry,  those  messages  told  us  indeed  that  ''•  a  true  woman's 
heart  was  beating  under  the  royal  purple,"  but  that  was  not  the 
whole  significance  to  us.      Wlien  all  the  potentates  of  (^hris- 


ins    LAST    SKRMON.  145 

tc'iuloiu  aiul  the  rulciv  also  <>t'  Mdliaiiiiiicdaii  aii<l  j)aiiaii  cnipircs 
sent,  tliroiiij;!!  their  einl)assa(l<)r  and  minister,  the  li(iniai»e  of 
their  sjnipathv.  wliat  was  t]\v  reason,  what  tlie  si<»;)iiiication  of 
the  faet?  When,  at  the  tek'iiraphie  anuouneenient  of  tlie  (knitli 
of  .lames  A.  (rariiehl,  tlie  hells  of  old  cathedi'als  and  parish 
chui-ches  in  England  and  Seothnid  were  tolled  as  if  i-esjuaidino; 
to  the  hells  that  were  tolHn<>-  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic; 
when,  on  the  day  of  our  President's  funeral,  the  symhols  of 
numrning  were  hung  out  in  London  as  if  Lon(h)n  itself  wei'e 
one  of  our  cities ;  when  that  widowed  (^ueen  (at  the  nienti(»n 
of  whose  name  American  hearts  reply  "(lod  hless  her"  more 
fervently,  perhaps,  than  if  there  had  never  heen  a  Declaration 
of  Inde])endence)  sent  her  loving  words  of  condolence  to  the 
widow  of  our  President  and  to  his  venerable  mother,  the  back- 
woods farmer's  widow  ;  what  was  the  meaning,  to  us,  of  all  this 
international  sympathy  ? 

The  circle  of  a  hundred  years  has  just  been  completed  since 
that  surrender  which  ensured  and  virtually  certified  to  the 
woi'ld  the  independence  of  the  Fnited  States.  Between  that 
U)th  of  October,  1781,  which  saw  the  surrender  at  Yorktown, 
and  that  19th  of  October,  1881,  whicli  saw  our  national  salute 
to  the  imperial  iiag  of  Great  Britain  on  the  spot  where  it  had 
been  struck  in  acknowledgment  of  defeat,  thei-e  had  been  a 
century  of  pi-ogress.  International  animosities  are  losing  their 
old  bitterness.  International  sympathies  are  growing  stnmger. 
We  see  this — and  it  is  much  to  l)e  thankful  for — in  the  expres- 
sions of  regard  and  sympath}'  which  have  come  to  us  in  our 
national  affliction.  But  we  cannot  fail  to  see  that  they  signify 
to  us  more  than  this.  The  feeble  TTnion  of  thirteen  States,  as 
they  were  in  1781,  with  their  population  of  less  than  three  mil- 
lions scattered  along  the  Atlantic  coast,  has  become  the  hrmly 
compacted  Union  of  thirty-nine  States  with  a  population  of  fifty 
millir>ns.  We  have  become — let  us  not  say  the  foremost,  but- 
one  of  the  foremost  powers  of  the  world.  All  nations  are 
looking  towards  us,  not  in  feai-  (God  forl)id  that  they  should 
have  reason  to  fear  us  I)  but  in  wonder  at  our  advancement  in 
pojjulation,  in  wealth,  in  all  the  elements  of  civilization,  and 
as  they  look  they  are  learning  how  great  a  blessing  fi-om  God  a 
government  like  ours — self-government — may  be  to  a  i)eople 
capable  of  self-government. 


146  LEONARD    BACON. 

Remember,  then,  our  national  responsilnlitj.  That  is  the 
thought  which  ends  my  service  here  to-day.  A  national  thanks- 
giving ought  t<j  quicken  the  sense  of  national  responsibility. 
What  the  twentieth  century,  now  drawing  near,  is  to  be  for  the 
millions  upon  millions  that  are  to  inhabit  this  land  of  ours — 
what  it  is  to  be  for  the  whole  world — will  l)e  determined  largely 
by  what  the  peojDle  of  the  United  States  are  and  what  they  do 
in  the  nineteen  years  that  are  yet  to  be  numbered  in  the  nine- 
teenth century. 

In  that  national  resj)onsibility  each  individual  citizen  has  his 
part. 


Rev.  TiMOTUY  D WIGHT,  D.D. 

Dear  Sir — The  officers  of  the  First  Church  and  Ecclesiastical  Society  in  New 
Haven  have  appointed  us  a  committee  to  thank  you  for  your  very  appreciative 
and  tender  address  delivered  at  the  funeral  of  our  late  Pastor,  Rev.  Leonard 
Bacon,  D.D.,  and  to  request  a  copy  of  it  for  publication. 

We  are  with  great  respect  very  sincerely  yours, 

H.    C.   KiNGSLEY, 

L.  J.  Sanford, 
T.  R.  TROWBRroGE,   Jr. 
New  Haven,  January  15,  1882. 


Messrs.  Henry  C.  Kingsley,  Leonard  J.  Sanford,  Thos.  R.  Trowbridge,  Jr. : 
Gentlemen — In  reply  to  your  kind  note  of  the  15th,  allow  me  to  say  that  it  is  a 
matter  of  much  gratification  to  me  to  know  that  the  words  which  were  spoken, 
from  the  depth  of  my  own  feeling,  at  the  funeral  of  Dr.  Bacon  were  such  as  to 
meet  the  approval  of  his  friends  in  the  church  and  congregation  who.se  pastorate 
he  held  for  so  many  years.  If  it  will  be  a  pleasure  to  yourselves  and  to  otliers  to 
preserve  the  address  as  a  memorial  of  the  friend  whom  we  all  so  sincerely  love 
and  honor,  I  shall  be  happy  to  place  it  in  your  hands  for  publication. 
With  much  respect,  I  am  yours  very  truly, 

Timothy  Dwight. 
New  Haven,  January  19,  1882. 


ADDRESS 

By  Prof.  Timothy  Dwight,  at  the  Funeral  of 
Key.  Leonard  Bacon,  D.D. 


Deckmber  27,  1881. 


We  meet  togethei",  this  afternoon,  as  a  company  of  friends 
— almost  as  the  memljers  of  a  single  family, — that  we  may 
I'ender  the  last  service  of  regai"d  and  kindly  affection  to  a  man 
who  has  long  ])een  held  in  honor  by  lis  all.  We  meet  in  this 
House  of  Public  Worslii]),  ratliei-  than  at  his  own  home, 
because  no  private  dwelling  conld  receive  within  its  walls  the 
lai'ge  numl»ers  who,  by  reason  of  his  departure  from  among  us, 
are  tilled  with  a  sense  of  personal  bereavement,  and  because  it 
seems  fittine;  that  one  who  has  for  so  manv  vears  l)ome  witness 
here  for  the  truth  and  for  God  should  be  carried  to  his  l)urial 
from  this  consecrated  place.  But  we  do  not  meet  foi-  the  utter- 
ance and  hearing  of  formal  eulogy,  or  for  the  minute  setting 
forth  of  those  events  and  woi'ks  wliich  have  made  his  career  so 
remarkable.  A  time  foi-  this  will  be  asked  foi-,  and  will  be 
found,  by  the  connnunity  when,  the  tirst  freshness  of  oui-  grief 
having  passed  away,  we  may  be  able  more  cahnly  and  thought- 
fully to  estimate  what  he  was  and  what  he  did.  A  great  man 
and  a  good  man,  such  an  one  as  does  not  often  live  in  any 
city,  large  or  small, — the  full  narrative  of  his  life,  whether  told 
by  some  competent  and  loving  fellow-worker  in  the  good  cause 
here  to  an  assembly  of  his  townsmen,  or  recorded  in  a  volume 
which  may  bear  to  other  regions  and  another  generation  the 
knowledge  of  his  character  and  his  inliuence,  cannot  but  be  a 


150  LEONARD    T5AC0N. 

blessing  to  every  one  to  whose  serious  retiection  it  may  present 
itself.  It  wonld  be  a  loss  indeed,  if  the  story  were  not,  at 
some  early  moment,  to  be  thus  gi^^en  to  the  world.  To-day, 
however,  we  only  speak  to  one  another  as  if  a  sorrowing  house- 
hold, sorrowing  most  of  all  for  the  word  which  we  have  heard, 
that  we  shall  see  his  face  no  more.  Our  thoughts  are  voiced, 
as  it  were,  in  a  half-suppressed  whisper  of  affection  and  grate- 
ful memory  in  the  very  presence  of  the  dead.  They  are 
spoken  by  one  of  the  company  to  the  rest,  in  the  few  moments 
before  we  say  our  last  farewell  at  his  open  grave.  They  can- 
not review  the  past  history.  They  must  be  imperfect  even  as 
related  to  the  fullness  of  what  w^e  feel.  The  talk  by  the  fire- 
side on  many  a  Sunday  evening  in  our  several  homes ;  the 
tender  recollections  in  many  an  hour  of  converse  with  our  own 
minds, — these  alone  will  complete  the  picture  to  each  one 
among  us  of  the  friend  who  has  just  left  the  things  that  are 
seen  for  those  that  are  unseen.  And  yet — as  in  the  family 
circle — we  cannot  help  recalling,  even  at  this  hour,  some  traits 
of  his  character,  and  asking  the  (juestions,  What  of  the  past, 
and  What  of  the  future  ? 

Our  friend  who  has  now  finished  his  eai'thly  work  was  a  man 
of  varied  powers  and  of  admirable  (|ualities,  both  of  mind  and 
heart.  He  was  made  by  nature  on  a  grand  scale.  We  who 
knew  him  as  a  fellow-citizen  and  a  friend  came  to  understand 
this  moi-e  and  more  fully  as  the  years  passed  on.  Those,  also, 
who  merely  saw  his  face,  and  heard  of  him  or*  from  liim  in 
other  places,  were  impressed  ])y  tlie  same  thouglit.  No  man 
could  read  a  page  of  his  writings  oi-  listen  to  one  of  his  inoi'e 
powerful  discourses,  without  having  some  true  appreciation  of 
his  extraordinai-y  ability.  We  have  often  said  tliis,  as  we  liave 
spoken  about  him  in  the  past.  We  say  it  again,  and  with  a 
deeper  sense  of  its  truth,  if  possible,  at  this  hour.  And  why 
should  we  not  allude  to  it  even  here,  as  his  mortal  part  still  lies 
before  us.  It  is  not  as  praise  to  hiiu  that  it  comes  to  our  lips 
(which,  at  such  a  time,  he  might  wnsh  to  be  left  unexpressed), 
but  as  a  grateful  remembrance  for  ourselves.  These  powers 
and  (puilities  made  uj)  the  life  of  the  man.  They  rendered 
him  what  he  was  to  our  thought.  They  will  cause  him  to  be  u 
living  influence  for  us  in  the  futui'e. 


FINKRAL    SKiniOX.  I .'»  I 

As  I  l)rin*>'  him  onci-  more  hefoiv  m_v  mind,  lie  appeal's  as  a 
man  (tf  wonderful  mem«>i-j  ;  of  clear  peree])tion  of  truth;  of 
that  loi>ical  ])ower  which  belongs,  not  indeed  to  the  authors  of 
systems  of  philosophy,  })ut  to  the  ablest  advocates  in  the  con- 
flicts of  thouglit ;  of  wide  and  comprehensive  mental  gi-asp  ;  oi 
a  rhetorical  skill  and  culture  characteristic  of  the  l)est  writers 
of  our  lano-uage  ;  of  an  uncommon  poetic  sense  and  feeling;  of 
such  extraoi'diiuii-y  suggestiveness  and  feitilitv'  in  ideas,  that  his 
mind  could  nevei'  l)e  inactive  or  at  rest;  of  so  exquisite  humor 
that  it  was  a  continual  charm  to  listen  to  his  conversation;  of  a 
native  dignity  of  expression  which  everywhere  compelled 
respect ;  of  a  beautiful  combination  of  intellectual  vigor  and 
tender  feeling.  How  often  have  we  found  him,  when  (piestions 
of  tlie  past  were  before  us,  ready  to  l)ring  forth  fi-oni  the  store- 
house of  his  recollections  those  minute  details  and  that  fresh- 
ness of  living  fact  which  contain  within  them  the  reality  of 
history.  He  seems,  from  his  earliest  years,  to  have  seized  upon 
all  that  he  heard  from  persons  who  were  older  than  himself, 
and  to  have  laid  it  aside  in  his  mind  for  use  at  any  moment. 
His  remembrance  was  in  this  "way  prolonged,  if  we  may  so 
express  it,  over  a  period  of  half  a  century  or  more  before  the 
time  of  his  l)irth.  It  was  thus  enabled  to  realize  for  himself 
and  foi'  us  the  earlier  life  of  New  England,  and  in  a  high 
degree  that  of  the  city  where  he  and  we  have  found  our  home. 
His  reading,  also,  cari-ied  him  l)ack  into  the  nioi-e  distant  j)ast. 
Here,  again,  the  accuracy  of  memory  brought  everything  into 
his  lasting  possession.  He  was  an  authority  with  regard  to  his- 
torical facts  and  dates.  He  had  a  most  lively  interest  in  all  that 
was  interesting  in  every  period  and  in  every  land.  He  com- 
prehended and  entered  sympatlietically  into  the  struggles  of 
other  ages,  and,  while  he  lived  with  an  enthusiasm  for  the  pres- 
ent beyond  that  of  most  men  who  know  little  of  what  is  be- 
hind it,  he  fired  the  energies  of  his  spirit  l)y  the  example  of 
the  heroes  and  martyrs  of  lilierty  and  of  faith.  I  am  sure  that 
the  men  who  fought  for  their  rights  against  tyi-anny  and  op- 
pression in  England  two  centuries  ago  and  more  would  have 
recognized  him  as  a  kindred  spirit,  and  would  haxe  seen  in 
him,  as  he  carried  on  the  conflict  in  this  later  day,  the  influence 
of  their  own  lives.     Trulv,  we  have  lost  in  his  dving  Luuch  of 


152  LEONARD    BACON. 

the  past;  iniicli  wliieli  had  l>een  witliiii  his  own  experience 
mnch  more  which  was  so  made  a  reah'ty  thi'(:)no;h  his  memory  of 
what  he  had  hqard  and  vead,  that  it  seemed  as  if  he  must  have 
exj)erienced  it.  T  feel  that  the  world  has,  in  a  certain  sense, 
grown  younger  to  ns  all  than  it  was  a  few  days  ago,  from  the 
passing  away  of  what  was  in  his  I'ecollection. 

How  qnickly,  also,  his  mind"  moved.  He  had  more  new  and 
fresh  thoughts  in  a  day,  we  may  almost  say,  than  most  men, 
even  men  of  culture,  have  in  a  week.  I  never  knew  a  mind 
more  rich  in  ideas,  more  constantly  active,  more  awake  in  every 
direction,  more  ready  to  effervesce  and  scintillate  with  bright 
thoughts,  when  aroused  by  the  excitement  of  intelligent  con- 
versation. As  St.  Paul's  ideas  seem  to  have  pressed  for 
utterance,  oftentimes,  more  rapidly  than  the  pen  of  his  amanu- 
ensis could  record  them,  so  in  the  case  of  our  friend  I  ha^e 
sometimes  felt  that  the  mind  was  unable  to  contain  all  that  was 
in  it,  and  that,  as  he  poured  forth  his  thought  in  its  abundance, 
he  was,  as  it  were,  only  thinking  aloud.  He  was  not,  however, 
like  some  nien,  a  constant  talker.  He  could  l)e  silent  in  the 
contentment  of  his  own  meditation  as  easily  as  he  could  speak. 
But  he  needed  only  to  be  stinmlated  by  the  presence  and  dis- 
cussion of  cultivated  friends,  and  his  mind  opened  at  once  in 
every  beautiful  way.  The  rich  resources  of  memory,  the  pre- 
cision of  his  thinking,  the  play  of  keen  wit,  the  love  of  truth, 
the  purity  of  sentiment,  the  facility  of  language,  which  were 
characteristic  of  him,  all  combined  to  make  the  expression  of 
his  thoughts  delightful  to  the  hearer. 

There  are  few  persons  within  the  circle  of  our  knowledge  I 
am  confident,  who  exhil)it  in  their  style  so  much  of  rhetorical- 
finish  and  of  the  purest  English  expression.  Every  sentence, 
whethej"  written  or  spoken,  appeai'ed  to  fall,  as  by  a  natural 
law,  into  the  proper  order  and  to  assume  a  rich  musical  charac- 
ter, kindred  even  to  that  which  has  given  to  the  English  version 
of  the  Scriptures  such  power  over  inultitudes  of  minds.  It  was 
this,  in  a  large  measure,  together  with  his  appreciative  sense  of 
what  was  fitting,  which  made  us  all  trust  him  in  any  emergency 
to  say  the  right  words  in  the  right  way.  What  a  sweet  and 
solemn  strain,  as  if  coming  down  the  ages  fi-om  the  times  even 
of   the   old    prophets,    there    was    in    liis    pi'ayers.      What   a 


FUNKKAL   SEK.MON.  1  .>;; 

measui-ed  I'loiiiU'iict'  in  liis  best  (liscoiirses  from  tlic  pulpit,  :iinl 
in  liis  oi-ations  on  tlu'  nuMnorial  and  festive  days  of  the  coiii- 
iiioiiwealtli.  NVliat  a  cliaiMiiini:' pi('tnres(|Ueiiess  when  he  told  of 
tlie  simple  lift-  of  oni'  *i-i'andfathers  or  of  the  tryin<i,'  times  of  oiii' 
Ivevolntionai'v  history.  We  tni'ned  to  him,  as  hy  a  unanimons 
im]>ulse,  \vlieiie\-er  the  spirit  of  pati'iotism  was  to  be  lii'ed,  or 
the  ij;i'atitn(]e  of  tbe  peo])le  to  (irod  for  our  national  blessings 
was  to  find  its  I)est  expi-ussion,  because  we  knew  that  his  w-ords 
would  be  fitly  spoken — would  be,  in  the  language  of  the  Old 
Testament  writei-,  like  apples  of  gold  in  pictures  of  silver. 
The  grand  march  of  the  ages  appears  also  in  sotne  of  his 
hymns,  as  in  tliat  which  opens  with  the  words, 

•'  O  God,  beneatli  Ihv  guiding  hand. 

Our  exiled  fathers  crossed  the  sea : 
And  when  tlioy  trod  tlie  wintry  strand. 

Witli  j)ray(>r  and  psahn  they  worshipped  thee." 

and  the  true  poetic  and  tender  emotion,  which  were  so  marked 
in  his  nature,  manifests  itself  in  others,  such  as  that  whose 
beginning  is, 

"Weep  not  for  the  saint  that  ascends 
To  partake  of  the  joys  of  the  sky." 

or  the  liynm  for  the  evening  twilight, 

"Hail  tranquil  hour  of  closing  day." 

This  last-mentioned  characteristic  of  his  mind  was  most  beau- 
tifully exhibited — as  so  many  here  present  know  better  than 
any  one  can  tell  them — in  those  seasons  of  sorrow  when  he  was 
called,  in  the  households  of  his  people,  to  do  for  the  dead  what 
w^e  are  now  doing  for  him.  I  shall  never  forget  the  pathos,  and 
Cliristian  tenderness,  and  sweet  utterance  of  hope  and  confidence 
with  which  he  guided  our  thoughts  along  the  uncertain  future 
of  life,  and  to  the  Kingdom  of  God  in  heaven,  as  we  were  cele- 
brating the  Lord's  Supper  in  the  Divinity  School  at  the  close 
of  the  last  college  year.  It  was  at  al)0ut  that  time  that  the 
first  warnino's  were  o;iven  to  his  mind  that  he  mio;ht  ere  lonj; 
be  called  away  to  another  life,  and  he  may  have  been  thinking 
then  of  what  has  now  been  realized. 

With  what  brilliancy  of  intelligence,  what  strength  of  clear 
reasoning,  what  effectiveness  of  wit,  what  manliness  of  free 
debate,  he  contended  for  righteousness  and  truth,  when  the  bat- 


154  LEONARD    BACON. 

tie  was  rai^iiio;  around  him.  There  have  been  few  statesmen  in 
the  country  who  have  sounded  the  cUu'ion  notes  so  often  as  he 
has  done.  There  are  many  in  this  house  who  recall  the  old 
days  of  the  contest  between  the  slave  power  and  the  f i"ee  in  our 
nation,  especially  in  the  latei-  stages  of  it ;  and  where  in  all  the 
land  is  there  a  more  conspicuous  hgure,  rising  before  our  mem- 
ory of  that  warfare,  than  this  honored  man  whom  we  bury 
to-day  (  He  would  have  accomplished  the  end  by  peaceful 
measures,  if  he  could.  But  when  he  saw  that  there  was  no 
peace — that  there  was  to  be  and  must  be  a  war  of  ideas,  he 
threw  himself  with  energy  and  with  eloquence  into  the  strife. 
And  when  the  conflict  of  argument  was  followed  by  the  war  of 
arms,  his  voice  and  his  heart  were  wholly  and  constantly  for 
the  country  until  the  hour  when  victory  was  secured  for  the 
right.  He  was  a  true  patriot.  It  has  been  said  that  his  writ- 
ings established  Abraham  Lincoln  in  his  opposition  to  the 
slave-system  ;  and  thus  we  may  gain  some  estimate  of  what  he 
accomplished  for  the  good  cause.  We  speak  in  his  pi-aise,  at 
this  hour,  for  what  he  did  in  those  days  now  happily  gone  into 
the  past.  But,  when  we  are  thinking  of  him  as  a  man,  we 
rejoice  that  among  the  grounds  of  our  admiration  and  our 
friendship  are  the  powers  of  heart  and  mind  which  made  him, 
then  and  always,  what  he  was  in  the  warfare  for  the  trutli. 

In  his  stormiest  conflict  with  the  enemies  of  right  and  the 
common  weal,  however,  I  do  not  believe  that  our  venerated 
friend  had  any  personal  bitterness.  He  had  a  deep  sense  of 
righteousness,  a  strong  conviction  of  the  truth.  But  his  oppo- 
sition was  to  what  was  false  and  wrong.  It  was  not  a  private 
hostility.  He  was  a  genuine  lover  of  freedom.  He  had  the 
courage  of  a  soldier  when  he  had  once  connnitted  himself  to 
the  battle.  He  even  gloried  in  being  present  in  the  tliickest  of 
the  fight,  with  all  its  excitement  and  its  danger.  Yet  it  was 
tlie  cause  that  he  fought  for,  not  liis  own  reputation.  He  was 
as  little  inspired  by  selfishness  or  ignoble  feeling  as  any  man 
whom  I  luive  ever  met. 

In  the  conflicts  on  less  vital  subjects  than  the  one  just  men- 
tioned, it  has  often  l)een  the  play  and  force  of  his  intellect 
alone  which  have  been  engaged.  He  was  always,  no  doubt,  a 
formidable  controversialist.      He  ivjoiced  in  dcl)at(>  :ind  discus- 


Kl   NKKAI.    SKinioN.  l.>,) 

sioii,  and  was  i-eadv  for  it  at  any  moment,  lint  lie  was  l»y  no 
means  a  ])assionate,  or  a  jealons.  or  in  any  way  a  Itad-lieafted 
opponent.  IK'  iie\i'r  (U'sired  to  do  e\il  to  anotlier.  He  never 
eherisheil  the  remendn'ance  of  evil  inflicted  l>y  anotliei'  upon 
himself.  He  nevei- waited  and  watched  for  an  hour  of  I'eipii- 
tal  or  reveug'e.  l''»»r  sixteen  years  my  associate-  professors  in 
the  Divinity  School  and  myself  have  had  the  most  constant 
opportunities  for  the  closest  intercoui'se  with  him  ;  and  it  is  our 
united  and  joyfrd  testimony,  as  it  is  that  of  his  two  colleagues  in 
the  pastorate,  that  we  have  never  had  the  acquaintance  of  a  man 
of  nobler  temper,  of  more  kindly  nature,  of  a  more  beautiful 
spirit  as  related  to  fellow-workers,  of  more  freedom  fi-om  sus- 
piciousness or  jealousy  of  other  men,  of  larger-heartedness — a 
man,  in  a  word,  to  whom  we  could  give  our  affection  and 
esteem  more  willingly  than  to  him.  And  though  he  does  not 
need  our  testimony  where  he  is  revei-ed  l)y  every  one,  as  he  is 
in  Xew  ITaven,  it  is  a  satisfaction  to  us  to  give  it,  as  we  iind 
ourselves  bereft  of  his  presence  for  all  the  future  of  our  lives. 
The  Apostle  John  is  called  a  Son  of  Thundei-  in  the  gospel  by 
St.  Mark.  To  some  it  has  appeared  strange  that  such  a  man 
could  afterwards  become  the  gentle,  loving  disciple  who  leaned 
upon  the  i)reast  of  Jesus,  and  who,  in  his  latest  days,  made  it 
the  burden  of  his  exhortation  to  his  (christian  brethren,  that 
they  should  love  one  anotlier.  In  the  case  of  the  friend  whose 
loss  we  mourn  to-day,  it  was  the  heat  of  the  conflict  and  the 
zeal  for  the  truth  (as  it  may  have  l)een  in  the  apostle's  early 
days),  which  made  him  to  the  view  of  many,  a  man  of  bitter 
hostility.  But  it  was  only  the  armor  and  the  smoke  of  the  bat- 
tle, which  were  concealing  the  man.  How  clearly,  in  these  six- 
teen years  of  which  I  have  spoken,  the  reality  of  the  nature 
has  shone  forth,  and  has  proved  that  the  cond)atant,  who  was 
full  of  the  soldier's  spirit  as  he  fought  for  the  cause,  was  at  the 
same  moment  abounding  in  kindliness  and  love  towards  all 
men.  How  plainly,  also,  those  years  of  intercourse  with  him 
have  manifested  to  us  who  looked  upon  his  daily  life  the  loving 
character  of  his  personal  relation  to  the  Master.  He  was  like 
Peter  and  Paul  in  his  labors,  his  energy,  his  earnestness,  his 
ability  and  readiness  to  sound  the  notes  of  battle ;  but  in  his 
own  soul's  life  he  had  nmch  of  the  simplicity  nnd  beauty  of 
the  Johannean  love  to  Christ, 


156  LEONAHI)    HACON. 

Oui"  lionored  friend  was  inagiianiiiioiis  ;  lie  was  generous  ;  he 
was  always  disposed  to  aid  in  any  work  in  which  he  was 
engaged  .with  associates ;  he  liad  no  desire  to  take  away  from 
tlie  honor  or  reward  of  others  in  order  to  inci-ease  his  own  ;  lie 
was  a  hearty  believer  in  the  powers  and  capabilities  of  yonng 
men,  and  was  hopefnl  for  them  ;  lie  was  ever  a  promoter  and 
advocate  of  the  highest  well-being  of  the  community.  He  had 
the  kindly  instincts  of  a  true  gentleman.  He  had  the  trnstfiil, 
serious,  self-sacrificing,  devoted,  manly,  godly  spirit  of  a  sincere 
( ■hristian. 

How  much  he  did  for  Xew  Haven  can  l)e  measured  and  esti- 
mated best  by  (»bserving  what  a  place  he  holds  in  the  regard  of 
his  fellow  citizens,  and  what  weight  has,  for  these  many  years, 
been  given  by  them  to  his  opinions  and  his  words.  He  has 
been  identified  with  the  life  of  the  city  for  half  a  century.  Its 
interests  have  been  near  to  his  thoughts  and  to  his  heart.  His 
energies  and  his  wisdom  have  responded  to  its  call  whenever 
they  were  needed.  It  has  been  an  interesting  sight  to  see  him, 
in  his  later  life,  as  he  walked  about  the  streets.  Others  have 
spoken  to  me  of  it,  and  I  have  often  thought  of  it  myself,  as  a 
noble  element  in  our  life  here,  that  a  man  like  him  who  has 
C(jntended  for  more  than  a  generation  against  evil,  and  in  the 
name  of  God  has  warned  and  rebuked  evil-doers, — a  man  who 
has  had  no  favors  to  ask  or  to  give,  but  who  has  simply  tried 
to  do  the  Great  Master's  work  and  to  speak  for  him,  no  matter 
who  opposed  or  threatened, — should  have  been  able  to  gather 
around  himself  at  the  end  the  veneration  of  men  of  every  party 
in  Church  and  State,  of  the  poor  and  the  rich  alike,  of  the  for- 
eign citizen  as  well  as  the  one  born  upon  the  soil,  and  should  pass 
the  ])riglit  and  lovely  evening  of  his  lifetime  without  an  enemy. 
I  am  glad  that  our  eyes  have  been  permitted  to  witness  this 
sight,  and  that  the  city  of  our  abode  has  this  honor  for  itself. 
The  name  of  Leonard  Bacon  will  surely  be  always  enrolled 
among  the  number  of  tliose  to  which  tlie  highest  place  is  as- 
signed in  the  history  of  New  Haven. 

Our  friend's  career  had  a  remarkalde  completeness.  He  had 
lived  beyond  the  ordinary  limits  of  human  life,  and  in  two 
months  more  would  have  seen  his  eightieth  birthday.  And  all 
the  veai-s  from  childhood  (»nward  were  full  of  work.      From  his 


KINKKAL    SKRMOX.  l.")! 

oai'ly  iiiaturity.  cvoii  from  liis  colleov  days,  lie  won  the  esteem 
of  all  who  knew  liim  hest,  hoth  foi-  his  mental  ])ower  and  his 
moral  excellence.  At  the  ai-'e  of  twenty-three,  when  most 
yonnii"  '"*-'•!  ^H"*^'  •"'till  in  the  woi'k  of  j)repai'ation,  he  was  called  to 
the  ])astorate  of  this  Church  of  Christ.  Thono-h  scarcely  moi'e 
than  a  hoy  in  years,  he  |)i'o\ed  himself  to  ho  no  nnworthy  snc- 
cessor  of  the  ahlest  men  who  had  preceded  him.  He  took  a 
hig-h  rank  as  a  ])reachei',  and  as  a  man  he  was  among  those 
whose  power  was  felt  thronghont  the  community  and  the  com- 
monwealth. F(»i'  foi-ty  years,  a  period  as  important  as  any  in 
the  conntry's  history,  he  lahoi'ed  in  this  office,  giving  his  daily 
service  to  his  people,  hut  striving  foi'  the  good  canse,  also,  in 
the  i-egions  heyond.  lie  woi-ked  steadily  onward  until  he  had 
survived  the  older  generati(»n  to  whom  he  ministered  at  first, 
and  then  he  handed  on  the  message  of  the  Gospel  to  their  cliil- 
driMi,  and  even  their  grandchildren.  But  he  lost  none  of  his 
strength  and  ardor  as  time  ])assed  away.  For  a  great  many 
years  hefore  he  laid  aside  his  active  work  here,  he  was  the  most 
conspicuous  leader  in  the  Congregational  ministry,  while  none 
in  any  hranch  of  the  Clnirch  held  a  more  prominent  place, 
lie  made  this  Church  to  he  known  and  honored  everywhere. 
At  the  end  of  this  extended  period  lie  said  to  his  people  that 
he  had  served  them  long  enongli  for  their  highest  well-l)eing, 
and  asked  them  to  give  the  work  and  the  responsibility  of  his 
office  to  anothei-.  Then  he  devoted  himself  with  all  the  enthu- 
siasm of  yonth  to  a  new  employment.  He  became  a  teacher  of 
Doctrinal  Theology, — a  successor  in  the  Divinity  School  of  onr 
University  of  the  distinguished  divine  whom  he  had  also  fol- 
lowed in  the  pastorate.  In  this  new  position  he  found  delight- 
ful occupation.  He  gave  to  his  pupils  the  fruits  of  "his  long 
years  of  thought  and  of  learning,  and  he  ever  kept  his  mind 
open  to  the  truth.  When  this  position  was  subsequently  filled, 
in  accordance  with  his  own  views,  by  the  gentleman  who  now 
holds  it,  he  took,  at  the  urgent  request  of  his  colleagues,  another 
chair  of  instruction.  To  ten  successive  classes  of  students  he 
has  lectured  upon  Church  Polity  and  American  Church  His- 
tory, subjects  respecting  which  he  was  as  well  qualified  to  com- 
municate valuable  knowledge  as  any  man  in  the  country.  His 
work   in   this  lectui-eship   continued  to   the  latest  moment.     I 

12 


1,")S  LEONARD    BACON. 

found  liiiii  on  Thursday  afternoon  of  last  week  <i;iving  tlie  con- 
cluding- lecture  of  the  term,  and  before  the  sun  had  risen  on 
the  second  morning"  afterwards  his  life  on  earth  was  over. 

Success  and  honor  attended  him  in  l)oth  sphei'es  of  his  activ- 
ity from  the  beginning  to  the  ending.  He  had  the  conscious- 
ness that  he  was  doing  good  service,  which  would  be  lasting  in 
its  influence,  both  in  this  Church  and  in  our  Theological  School. 
To  what  he  lias  done  for  the  former  the  Christian  knowledge 
and  Christian  thought  of  many  among  the  living  and  the  dead 
have  borne  witness  in  the  past.  The  Christian  life  itself  in 
others  has  owed  its  beginning  to  his  teaching  and  his  prayers. 
Even  in  these  declining  years  of  his  old  age,  he  has  almost 
resumed  the  duties  of  its  pastor  and  has  thus  centralized  its 
Church  life  in  himself  in  no  small  degree.  His  work  in  the 
School  of  Tlieology,  on  the  other  hand,  is  well  known  to  his 
associates  and  to  many  of  its  friends.  For  his  efforts  to  estab- 
lish the  school  on  the  best  foundations,  and  to  give  it  its 
highest  efficiency  and  an  honorable  fame,  tlie  churches 
throughout  the  land  may  well  be  grateful  to  God.  For  his 
instructions  and  his  personal  influence  more  than  three  hun- 
dred ministers  now  in  the  wOrk  of  the  Gospel  in  diffei-ent 
parts  of  the  country  and  the  world  remember  him  with  un- 
feigned regard,  while  they  all  have  a  tender  feeling  towards 
him  as  a  venerated  father  and  friend. 

The  gTeat  causes  for  which  he  has  labored  have  always  been 
good  ones  also,  and  to  a  remarkable  degree  his  efforts  have 
been  manifestly  attended  with  good  results.  He  has  rejoiced 
for  years  in  the  victory  of  freedom  and  of  the  cause  of  the 
Union,  for  which  he  strove  so  long  and  so  well.  His  mind 
which  has  had  such  extraordinary  interest  in  the  progress  of 
the  world,  has  been  granted  the  vision  of  the  wonderful  things 
both  for  science  and  for  Christianity  accomplished  in  our 
generation.  He  has  passed  his  lifetime  in  an  intellectual 
circle  and  in  a  cultivated  city.  He  has  known  the  greatest 
earthly  blessing — -a  happy  home,  sacred  in  its  joys,  and  ecpially 
sacred  in  its  sorrows.  He  has  seen  his  children  grow  up 
around  him  and  find  for  themselves  spheres  of  usefulness  and 
honor,  while  their  children  also  have  added  to  the  comfort  and 
satisfaction  of  bis  old  age.     He  has  been  permitted  to  behold 


FINKKAI.    SKK'MoN.  |.)'.t 

tlie  snnli_i:;lit  »>t"  lieavt'ii  sliiiiinu'  iiluiiM  his  pathway,  as  the  end 
of  liis  earthly  ;)ili;rima<ie  l)ei!:aii  tct  draw  nearer.  He  lias  l)ad 
the  j)rivilege  of  workinij;  to  the  last,  with  all  the  fresliness  of 
his  mental  vio-or  and  all  the  hnoyan('y  of  an  ardent  sonl.  Tie 
has  died  almost  in  a  moment,  and  almost  withont  a  strn<»;gle. 
lla|)|)V  life,— we  sav  to  (tne  anotlu>r,--\vli()  could  have  wished 
it  t(»  he  otherwise  in  its  progress  o]'  in  its  closinii'^ 

The  closinu-  was  at  the  honr  of  eai'liest  dawn  on  Satnrday 
last.  It  was  a  fallintj;  aslee}),  as  we  eall  it.  Ihit  the  sleep  was 
only  of  till'  l)odily  ])owei"s.  The  active  spii-it  passed  at  tliat 
moment  beyond  onr  earthly  \isioii  to  its  home.  xVs  the  tidin^-s 
came  to  us  so  suddenly,  I  could  not  hut  ask  myself  in  the  hours 
that  immediately  followed.  What  is  the  new  experience  tlirough 
which  he  is  now  going  ^  We  often  think  of  the  great  account 
and  the  st)lemn  judgment  when  life  is  ended  ;  and  every  serious 
mind  must  feel  the  intluence  of  this  coming  scene  as  giving  to 
all  that  we  do  here  a  dee})  signilicance.  But,  as  T  tried  to  pic- 
ture to  myself  the  beginning  of  the  new  state  of  existence  for 
our  venerated  friend,  in  those  tii-st  houi's,  T  could  not  help 
thinking  that  the  judgment  was  found  in  his  case  to  he  all  com- 
prehended in  a  Fathei-'s  welcome  to  the  heavenly  house.  May 
we  not  believe  that  dying  was  to  him  ]>ut  the  closing  of  his 
eyes  to  the  familiar  surroundings  of  the  home  in  which  he  had 
lived  so  long  and  so  happily,  and  the  opening  them  a  single 
moment  afterward  to  the  other  home  beyond  our  sight;  and, 
thus,  that  there  was  no  interval  or  waiting. 

Every  sudden  death  brings  the  unseen  world  very  close  to  oui' 
thought,  and  seems  to  show  us  that  it  is  only  a  thin,  though  im- 
penetrable, veil  that  separates  life  here  from  life  there.  But 
when  we  tind  a  num  like  him  whose  departure  from  us  we  now 
mourn  dying  so  suddenly,  we  are  almost  forced  to  think  that 
any  break  or  interruption  in  the  mental  and  spiritual  work  is  im- 
possible. Our  friend,  on  the  last  evening,  was  engaged  in  the 
preparation  of  a  paper  upon  one  of  the  vital  questions  of  our 
national  life.  He  left  it  lying  on  his  table  untinished,  as  he 
retired  to  rest  for  the  night.  It  was,  like  so  many  that  he  had 
written  before,  a  discussion  of  an  evil  which  has  long  disgraced 
the  nation,  and  was  designed  to  inspire  the  jniblic  mind  with 
right  ideas,  and  to  hel}),  in  some  measure,  towards  a  good  result. 


160  LEONARD    BACON, 

In  the  morning,  instead  of  retnrning  to  liis  study  table  and  re- 
suming liis  work,  as  he  had  expected  to  do,  he  saw  the  veil  part- 
ing asunder,  and,  in  answer  to  a  call  from  the  Divine  Master,  he 
entered  within  it.  And  then  it  closed  l)ehind  him.  That  was 
all.  Sui'ely  we  must  believe  that  in  that  other  room,  or  other 
home,  he  found  another  work  all  ready  for  him  to  begin,  and 
that  he  at  once  turned  to  it ;  employing  now  his  unwearied  aud 
widely-ranging  powers,  not  indeed  in  the  removing  of  evil,  for 
this  no  longer  uianifests  its  i)resence,  but  in  some  line  of  joy 
and  blessing,  in  some  service  of  love  and  good- will.  Yesterday, 
at  home  in  the  body,  and  therefore  absent  from  the  Lord.  To- 
day, absent  from  the  body  and  at  home  with  the  Lord.  What 
a  wonderful — what  a  wonderfully  blessed  experience  I  Who  of 
us  would  not  wish  for  the  same  experience  for  himself,  when 
the  end  comes  'i  The  dying  of  our  friend  seems  little  like  death. 
It  seems,  rather,  like  what  St.  Paul  speaks  of  when  he  says  in 
such  expressive  language,  "  That  which  is  mortal  is  swallowed 
up  of  life.'' 

I  think  of  our  honored  friend,  once  niore,  as  he  comes  into 
the  society  of  kindred  souls  in  that  other  life.  What  does  the 
heavenly  vision  reveal  to  us  ^  A  mind  like  his.  which  has  so 
realized  the  life  of  other  tnnes  within  itself,  must,  as  it  would 
seem,  now  tind  itself  associated  with  the  perfected  spirits  of  the 
early  Christian  fathers  of  our  own  city  and  Kew  England — 
with  men  like  Hooker  and  Davenport  and  Pierpont  and  Brews- 
ter. It  must  be  brought  into  union  with  the  heroes  of  civil  and 
rehgious  liberty  who  struggled  for  the  good  cause  in  foi-mei- 
ages  and  generations  in  this  or  other  lands,  some  of  wlioui  died 
in  the  dark  days  of  the  conflict,  and  some  with  the  first  sight  of 
the  victory.  It  must  ally  itself  with  those  who  have  from  the 
beginning  l)een  honored  by  (xod  with  a  summons  to  a  peculiar 
and  illustrious  work  for  Him  on  earth  and  with  the  thankful 
remembrance  of  succeeding  generations.  It  nnist  draw  very 
near  to  the  glorious  company  of  the  Apostles,  and  the  goodly 
fellowship  of  the  Prophets,  and  the  noble  army  of  the  Martyrs. 
The  asseml)lage  of  the  great  and  good  must  gladly  open  their 
ranks  to  welcome  such  a  man,  as  he  enters  on  his  new  life,  ran- 
somed like  themselves  from  the  powei-  of  sin,  and  received  by 
their  Lord  and  his  with  a  divine  benediction. 


KLNERAL   SERMON.  Hi  1 

I  think  of  him,  also,  as  joyfullv  iiiecting  with  tlie  hi-etl»ren 
in  the  ministrv  of  the  (rospel  witli  whom  lie  lal)ore(l  here  before 
old  age  had  come  iijxdi  him.  and  to  whom  he  bade  farewell  long 
since  as  thev  went  to  heaven;  with  the  l)rethren  and  fathers 
elsewhere,  also,  whom  he  knew^  and  honored  as  thev  e(jnally 
knew  and  honored  him;  with  that  little  com])any  of  faithfnl 
men,  whose  presence  among  us  the  older  portion  of  this 
audience  well  remember,  the  men  who  made  up  so  large  a  part 
of  the  life  of  Yale  College  for  half  a  century,  Day  and  Silliman 
and  Ivingsley  and  (Toodrich,  and  the  rest.  As  tliey  recognized 
him  in  the  days  gone  by  as  their  associate  and  helper,  it  must 
be  with  an  especial  joy  that  they  see  him  again,  now  that,  after 
so  long  a  time,  he  is  admitted  once  more  into  their  society,  his 
work  on  earth  so  happily  completed. 

We  think  of  him  even  more  tenderly,  as  we  try  to  realize  his 
reunion  with  the  great  nunil)er  of  believers  who  have  listened 
to  his  teachings  and  his  prayers  in  this  ancient  chui'ch,  but  have 
finished  their  earthly  course  bef(jre  him.  For  more  than  fifty 
years  they  have  been  entering,  one  by  one,  into  the  w^orld  to 
which  he  has  now  been  called,  and  in  their  happy  thanksgi\'ings 
for  theii-  own  blessed  life  in  heaven  we  may  not  doubt  that  they 
have  often  borne  his  name  upon  theii-  hearts.  As  he  has  fol- 
lowed them  to  the  same  glorious  home  and  is  beginning  his  new 
life  there,  what  nmst  be  their  feeling  and  the  holy  greeting 
which  they  give.  lie  stands  among  them  a  loving  and  beloved 
fi-iend, — to  find,  for  all  the  future,  the  happiness  of  his  soul 
manifolded  by  the  liappiness  of  theirs ;  the  satisfaction  in  his 
life's  work  deepened  and  heightened  continually  as  he  is  aide  to 
appreciate  more  fully  the  measure  of  its  good  results. 

And,  if  we  may  draw  still  nearer  to  the  inmost  circle  of  his 
jiast  life,  we  think  (jf  him,  still  again,  as  seeing  once  moi'e  the 
members  of  his  family  wIkjui  God  has  taken  to  Himself  in 
other  years ;  among  them  that  one  who  cared  for  him  with  an 
eldest  daughter's  affection  for  so  long  a  period,  and  at  whose 
grave  we  saw  him  standing,  it  seems  as  if  but  a  few  months 
since ;  and  that  gentle,  loving  son,  whose  death  in  the  prime  of 
his  age  was  so  great  a  loss  to  the  church  and  the  ministry,  the 
l)eauty  of  whose  Christian  living  and  whose  generous  spirit, 
which  had  shone  S(»  clearly  all  the  way  through  life,  seemed  to 


162  LEONARD    BACON. 

beam  forth  with  an  ahiiost  unearthly  l)rightnes8  when,  in  the 
later  hours  of  the  day  before  his  death  he  said,  "  It  may  be  that 
to-morrow  I  shall  be  allowed  to  touch  the  hem  of  the  Saviour's 
garment."  We  may  not  trust  ourselves  with  the  thought 
of  such  a  meeting.  But  it  must  be  one  which  passes  in  its  joy 
the  power  of  our  present  understanding,  and  one  which  shall 
be  followed  by  a  happy,  hopeful  waiting  for  those  who  are  left 
on  earth. 

And  then,  above  and  beyond  all  else,  there  is  revealed  to  us 
the  vision  with  which  the  New  Testament  prophet  was  blessed. 
"  They  serve  Him  day  and  night  in  His  temple.  He  that  sit- 
teth  on  the  throne  shall  spread  his  tabernacle  over  them.  They 
shall  hunger  no  more,  neither  thirst  any  more ;  neither  shall 
the  sun  strike  upon  them,  nor  any  heat ;  for  the  LamI)  which 
is  in  the  midst  of  the  throne  shall  be  their  shepherd,  and  shall 
guide  them  unto  fountains  of  waters  of  life ;  and  God  shall 
wipe  away  every  tear  from  their  eyes." 

Such  was  the  past,  and  such,  we  may  believe,  will  be  the 
future  for  this  noble  ( -hristian  preacher  and  teacher,  this  pui-e- 
minded  lover  of  his  country  and  of  mankind,  this  friend  of 
ours  who  labored  and  prayed  for  the  kingdom  of  (lod  unceas- 
ingly until  he  had  almost  reached  the  age  of  eighty  years,  and 
then  in  a  moment,  and  in  answer  to  a  sudden  call,  went  to  his 

reward. 

"A  mortal  arrow  pierced  his  frame, 
He  fell — but  felt  no  fear. 

Tranquil  amidst  alarms, 

It  found  him  on  the  field, 
A  veteran  slumbering  on  his  arms, 

Beneath  his  red-cross  shield. 

His  spirit,  with  a  bound. 

Left  its  encumbering  cla_v  ; 
His  tent,  at  sunrise,  on  the  ground, 

A  darkened  ruin  lay. 

The  pains  of  death  are  past. 

Labor  and  sorrow  cease ; 
And,  life's  long  warfare  closed  at  last, 

His  soul  is  found  in  peace. 

Soldier  of  Christ,  well  done ! 

Praise  be  thy  new  employ ; 
And  while  eternal  ages  run. 

Rest  in  thv  Saviour's  iov." 


FrXEKAL    SKHMOX.  1(18 

It  i>  now  f(irty-ft)ur  yt'ar.<  sinct',  (Hi  my  lirst  c'(»niin<;  to  Aew 
Ilavt'ii  as  a  l>oy  just  nine  years  old,  tlie  friend  respecting  whom 
1  have  spoken  these  words  received  me  kindly  to  his  house, 
almost  every  day,  as  the  playmate  of  one  of  his  children.  He 
had  at  that  time  only  reached  the  middle  point  of  the  allotted 
three  score  and  ten  of  human  life,  and  yet  how  old  he  seemed 
to  my  childhood's  thought.  I  know  of  nothing  more  strange 
or  beyond  l)elief  which  the  open  vision  of  the  fntui-e,  had  it 
been  given  to  me  then,  could  have  revealed,  than  that  for  so 
many  years  I  should  be  liis  associate  and  colleague  in  the  work 
of  his  later  life.  But  so  it  has  been  oi-dered  in  the  progress 
and  changes  of  time,  and  the  one  to  whom  I  looked  in  the 
eai-ly  days  as  my  father's  friend,  T  now  most  gi-atefully  remem- 
ber as  my  own — of  an  older  generation,  indeed,  but  so  full  of 
confidence  in  those  younger  than  himself,  and  sympathy  for 
them,  that  we  almost  forgot  the  diiference  of  tlie  years  and  felt 
that  he  was  one  with  us  in  our  labors  and  our  thoughts.  As  I 
recall  to  mind,  to-day,  the  period  in  which  we  who  have  been 
working  together  in  the  Di^nnity  School  have  known  his 
presence  with  us,  I  rejoice  that  we  may  bear  into  the  coming  time 
the  assurance  which  he  gave,  at  one  of  our  last  meetings,  of  his 
deep  satisfaction  in  the  perfect  and  uninterrupted  harmony  of 
our  association.  With  tender  feeling  he  expressed  the  thought 
which  we  all  were  thinking — but  we  thought,  also,  how  much 
of  it  was  due  to  his  own  unselfish  and  friendly  spirit. 

That  I  have  l)een  i-equested  l)y  his  family  to  say  the  words  of 
affection  and  regard  which  all  hearts  here  wish  to  be  sj)oken 
before  we  bear  him  to  his  burial,  I  feel  to  be  a  great  kindness 
to  myself.  The  words  might  have  been  said  by  others  in  a 
more  fitting  way,  but  I  am  sure  that  tliere  is  no  one  beyond  the 
limits  of  his  own  household  who  could  bear  more  willing  wit- 
ness to  what  he  has  done  and  especially  to  what  he  has  been. 
Our  last  farewell  to  him  is  spoken  at  this  hour  with  sorrow  that 
we  are  to  meet  him  here  no  longer,  but,  as  we  think  upon  his 
life,  it  is  spoken  with  the  pleasantest  memories  of  the  past  and 
the  most  joyful  hopes  for  the  future. 


The  sermon  preached  by  Rev.  (i.  T..  Walker,  D.I).,  is  given 
to  the  Committee  foi-  ])nl>licati<)ii  in  i-esponse  to  tlie  following 
request. 


New  Haven,  January  15,  1882. 
Dear  Sir — The  Deacons  of  the  First  Church  in  New  Haven,  and  the  committee 
of  the  Ecclesiastical  Sociecy  connected  with  it,  have  appointed  us  to  convey  to 
you  their  thanks  for  the  discourse  delivered  by  you  this  morning  at  their  request, 
in  which  you  portrayed  so  faithfully,  and  in  sucli  loving  and  eloquent  words,  the 
character  of  our  former  Pastor,  Ilev.  Leonard  Bacon,  D.D.,  in  his  relations  to  this 
church. 

We  are  also  instructed  to  ask  for  a  copy  of  your  discourse  for  publication. 
We  remain,  with  sincere  respect  and  esteem, 

H.    C.    KiNGSLEY, 

L.  .J.  Sanford, 
T.  R.  Trowbridge,  Jr. 
Rev.  Geo.  L.  Walker,  D.D. 


A    SERMON 


The  Pastor  of  the  First  Church  of  New  Haven, 
BY  George  Leon  Walker. 


Preached  January  15,  1882. 


Numbers  xx,  29. — And  when  all  the  Congregation  saw  that  Aaron  was 

DEAD.  THEY  MOURNED  FOR  AaRON  THIRTY  DAYS,  EVEN  ALL  THE  HOUSE  OF  ISRAEL. 

The  nature  of  the  service  I  am  to  attempt  to-day  is,  as  I  con- 
ceive of  it,  a  very  definite  one.  The  termination  of  a  pastoral 
connection,  subsisting  in  more  less  com^^leteness  of  meaning  for 
nearly  fifty-seven  years,  and  the  recjnest  of  the  officers  of  the 
bereaved  church  that  some  words  should  be  spoken  of  the  hon- 
ored man  who  sustained  that  relationship,  by  one  whose  oidy 
fitness  foi"  this  undertaking  is  his  succession  for  a  while  to  the 
title  and  duties  of  the  office  when  the  elder  pastor  laid  them 
down,  indicate  very  plainly  the  quality  of  the  action  proper  to 
this  occasion.  It  is  not  a  general  and  complete  survey  of  the 
life  and  character  of  Leonard  Bacon  that  this  hour  calls  for ; 
but  some  little  retrospect  and  consideration  of  him,  in  connec- 
tion with  this  church  he  loved  so  well,  and  which  so  truly  loved 
and  honored  him.  Other  voices  and  other  occasions  may  more 
fittingly  deal  with  the  broader  aspects  of  his  large  and  many- 
sided  personality  and  with  the  variety  of  his  public  W(u-k. 

Suggestions  of  these  things  have  already  found  expression, 
not  only  in  that  tender  and  discrimiuating  address  spoken  in 
this  house  at  the  funeral  service,  but  in  the  pages  of  the  secular 


168  LEONARD    BACON. 

aijd  religious  press,  whose  manifold  utterances  are  bearing  testi- 
mony to  the  importance  of  the  place  he  tilled  in  the  general  eye, 
and  the  value  set  on  the  many  great  obligations  under  which  he 
has  laid  his  fellow-men.  Indeed  it  is  within  the  scope  only  of 
the  chapters  of  an  ample  volume  adequately  to  tell  the  whole 
of  what  Doctor  Bacon  was  and  did. 

A  writer  of  rare  fertility  and  on  numy  a  theme,  a  historian  of 
penetrative  insight  and  patient  research,  a  leader  of  men's  minds 
in  matters  of  public  welfare,  a  commander  on  every  field  of 
ecclesiastical  struggle,  a  strong  pillar  of  support  to  every  philan- 
thropic enterprise,  a  conversationalist  of  unsurpassed  richness  of 
resource  and  raciness  of  utterance,  a  poet  whose  sweet  strains, 
find  frequent  voice  in  our  worship,  a  complex  and  various 
minded  man,  combining  elements  any  one  of  which  were  dis- 
tinction enough  for  most, — it  is  only  the  leisurely  pages  of  biog- 
raphy which  can  set  properly  forth  the  portraiture  of  his  char- 
acter and  the  i-ecord  of  his  work. 

Fortunately  our  duty  is  a  narrower  one.  We  meet  to-day  in 
this  church,  which,  though  it  by  no  means  confined,  was  never- 
theless the  center  of  his  most  distinctive  labors,  to  speak  of 
what  he  has  l)een  to  this  tiock  of  liis  early  and  only  pastoral 
charge.  Such  outlooks  and  glimpses  into  other  and  wider 
spheres  of  his  activity  as  his  characteristic  work  in  his  own  peo- 
ple's behalf  will  hurriedly  allow,  we  may  not  (piite  shut,  out ; 
but  Leonard  Bacon,  the  Pastor  of  the  First  Clmrch  of  New 
Haven,  is  to-day  our  theme. 

This  house  of  worship  where  we  are  gathered  was  about 
eleven  years  old  when  its  echoes  were  wakened  for  the  hrst 
time  by  the  voice  which  was  to  be  familiar  here  so  many  years. 
That  was  on  the  earliest  October  Sunday  in  1824.  It  was  the 
first  Sunday  after  Mr.  Bacon's  ordination  to  the  ministry,  which 
had  been  conferred  on  the  Tuesday  pi-evious  through  the  hands 
of  the  Hartford  ISTorth  Consociation,  met  at  Windsoi-,  Septem- 
ber twenty-eighth.  Tradition  tells  that  the  youthful  ai)i)earance 
of  the  preacher,  who  was  in  fact  only  twenty-two  and  a  half 
years  old,  excited  at  once  the  interest  and  the  criticism  of  the 
congregation  accustomed  to  the  commanding  presence  of  his 
predecessor,  Nathaniel  W.  Taylor,  and  many  of  whom  recalled 
still  the  ''stifP  and  anti(|ue  dignity"  of   Dr.  Dana,  wlu>  had  dis- 


MKM<)in.\i>  sKinioN.  H>9 

appearod  from  his  place  in  tlic  jMilpit  by  tlic  side  of  Moses 
Stuart  only  twelve  years  befoi'e. 

'Phis  (li\ision  of  ()|)iiii(>ii  i-i'specting  the  competence  of  the 
yoHiiii'  man  to  occupy  a  j)osition  so  conspicuous  as  this,  and  ren- 
dei'ed  doubly  e\actin<>'  by  the  ability  of  his  two  immediate  pivd- 
ecessors,  expressed  itself  in  the  hesitation  with  which,  after 
havini*-  listened  to  '"fourteen  sermons"  fi-(»m  him.  the  Society 
still  del)ated  the  (piestion  of  his  '"'call." 

At  length  at  a  "second  meeting"  on  the  subject,  on  Decem- 
ber twenty-eighth,  by  a  vote  of  sixty-eight  against  twenty,  the 
Society  expressed  their  desire  that  he  should  settle  with  them, 
and  the  church  joined  in  the  invitation.  The  call  thus  half- 
cordially  given  was  however  listened  to;  and  on  the  seven- 
teenth of  Jannary,  1825,  afRrraatively  answered.  ^Vnd  on  the 
ninth  of  March  following  the  formal  exercises  of  the  Pastor's 
induction  into  his  ofKce  here  to(»k  ])lace.  The  seruKtii  on  the 
occasion  was  preached  by  Mr.  If  awes  the  Pastor  of  the  Fii-st 
Church  in  Hartford — himself  in  the  seventh  year  of  his  minis- 
try— in  the  exercise  of  those  fraternal  courtesies  which  have 
marked  the  relationship  of  these  two  ancient  churches  of  f\)n- 
necticut  both  before  and  afterw^ards.  Of  course  it  hardly  needs 
to  say  that  all  the  members  of  the  council  who  took  part  in  the 
services  of  that  occasion — President  Day  who  w^as  the  Modera- 
tor, C/arlos  Wilcox  who  offered  the  introductory  prayer,  Joel 
Hawes  who  preached,  Stephen  "W.  Stebbins  who  offered  the 
prayer  of  installation,  Nathaniel  "W.  Taylor  who  gave  the  charge, 
Samuel  Merwin  who  ex]3ressed  the  fellowship  of  the  churches, 
and  Eleazar  T.  Fitch  who  led  in  the  closing  prayei-,  have  gone 
— and  most  of  them  have  for  manv  vears  l)een  mme — from 
human  sight. 

The  young  man  thus  put  in  charge  of  this  intluential  congre- 
gation was  not  utterly  a  stranger  to  the  town.  Born  February 
19,  1802,  at  the  far  Western  outpost  of  Detroit,  and  coming  to 
liis  first  memories  of  life  as  he  tells  us  "■  in  the  grand  old 
woods  "  of  Ohio,  on  ground  "  never  ploughed  before,"  and  in 
a  cabin  to  whose  door  the  "  red-skin  savage  sonletimes  came," 
and  around  which  the  "  wolves  howled  at  night,"  he  was  never- 
theless of  Connecticut  ancestry,  and  at  the  age  of  ten  years  was 
sent  to  be  edncated  under  the  care  of  an  uncle  at  Hartford. 


17<»  I.EOXAHI)    l^ACON. 

From  tlienee  after  about  five  years  lie  had  come,  a  now  father- 
less boy,  to  New  Haven,  and  entered  the  sophomore  class  in 
Yale  (\jllege;  the  I'ules  of  the  institution  being  as- he  says 
"  somewhat  relaxed  in  his  favor"  on  account  of  his  youth. 

Here,  from  iifteen  to  eighteen,  during  the  three  years  of  his 
residence  in  the  place  he  had  walked  these  streets,  and  he  had 
doubtless  at  least  occasionally  entei"ed  the  doors  of  this  sanctu- 
ary, and  heard  from  some  gallery  corner  the  impassioned  utter- 
ances of  Dr.  Taylor,  one  of  the  princeliest  preachers  of  New 
England's  history.  Little  did  the  youth  imagine,  or  the  fathers 
of  the  congregation  dream,  how  much  wider  a  place  in  this 
church's  history  the  unnoticed  listener  in  the  gallery  was  to  till, 
than  even  that  eloquent  man. 

But  though  the  young  Pastor  a  little  knew  New  Haven,  New 
Haven  knew  scarcely  anything  of  him.  He  had  his  way  to 
make  without  other  advantages  than  the  resources  of  liis  own 
powers.  And  the  obstacles  to  be  overcome  were  peculiarly  dif- 
ficult. Not  only  had  his  formal  call  been  a  divided  oile,  but  he 
had  that  kind  of  disadvantage  to  sui-mount  which,  whatever  l)e 
the  unanimity  of  invitation  extended  to  a  new  pastor,  always 
arises  from  the  remembrance  by  a  congregation  of  preceding- 
pastorates  of  any  very  special  attractiveness  and  power.  And 
the  two  previous  pastorates  had  been  very  eminently  such  as 
make  a  successor's  difficult.  They  had  been  marked  by  great 
i-eligious  awakenings,  and  they  were  those  of  men  leaving  a  dis- 
tinct and  abiding  impress  on  the  people  of  their  charge.  I  have 
myself,  after  the  lapse  of  the  whole  duration  of  Dr.  Bacon's 
active  pastorate  of  forty-one  and  a  half  years  in  this  place, 
heard  old  men  and  women  recall  and  sometimes  rehearse  the 
eloquent  utterances  of  Taylor  and  even  of  Stuart  fourteen 
years  previous,  which  had  stamped  themselves  on  their  memory 
with  ineffaceable  clearness. 

The  new  Pastor  felt  the  difficulties  of  his  situation  keenly. 
He  has  told  us  about  it  himself  in  his  retrospective  discourses 
preached  on  the  fortieth  and  fiftieth  anniversaries  of  his  set- 
tlement. In  those  addresses  he  desci-ibes  the  situation  of 
matters,  in  various  aspects,  on  his  coming  here — the  yet  nn- 
welded  fragments  and  remainders  of  old  controversies  in  the 
congregation;   the   oppositions   of    ''Old    Light"   and    "New 


M  KMolilA  L    SKinioN.  1  t  1 

Light"  ])rineiples  and  pcivoiialities  still  remainiiiji-  after  the 
two  revivalistic  pastorates  which  had  just  jxissed,  and  other 
ditferences.  But  in  especial,  speaking  of  the  difficulty  of  fol- 
lowing two  such  preachers  as  Stuait  and  Tayloi',  he  says  with 
characteristic  simplicity — and  I  may  add  with  the  characteristic 
nuxlesty  also  by  which,  with  all  his  gifts,  Dr.  Bacon  was  emi- 
nently marked — "  1  kncnv  it  is  not  an  affectation  to  say,  tliat 
T  never  had  any  such  power  in  the  pulpit  as  they  had  in  their 
hest  days.  For  many  years  after  the  commencement  of  my 
pastorate  I  was  habitually  brought  into  most  disadvantageous 
comparison,  not  only  with  those  distinguished  preachers,  but 
with  others  of  like  celebrity.  How  it  was  that  I  continued 
here  long  enough  to  become  a  fixture  cannot  easily  be  ex- 
plained." 

The  explanation  is  however  not  so  dithcult  as  the  modesty 
of  the  speaker  indicated  it  to  be.  The  new  Pastor  was  not 
then  or  afterward  the  peer  perhaps  in  the  power  of  eloquent 
and  moving  pulpit  utterance  of  his  two  predecessors,  certaiidy 
of  the  latter  of  them.  But  he  had  pulpit  j^owers  of  a  high 
order,  and  he  combined  with  them  such  a  variety  of  gifts 
beside,  as  more  than  supplied  the  com23arative  lack  in  the 
single  point  in  which  the  contrast  was  likely  to  be  at  once  so 
easy  and  so  misleading.  He  gave  indications  of  being,  if  not 
a  great  j^treacher,  what  was  more  a  great  man  and  minister. 
The  congregation  soon  began  to  find  it  out. 

And  yet  his  preaching  suffered  only  by  comparison  with 
what  was  absolutely  the  best  possible.  It  was  itself  always 
eminently  good.  It  was  marked,  as  were  all  his  writings  or 
-  utterances,  by  an  almost  matchless  felicity  of  expression  and 
clearness  of  style.  And  it  had  that  best  test  of  excellence,  it 
was  always  best  and  most  moving  in  dealing  with  the  weight- 
iest themes  and  on  the  most  important  occasions.  I  have  heard 
it  said  that  a  kind  of  turning  point  in  the  appreciation  of  the 
pastor  was  a  sermon  on  the  government  of  God,  from  the  text, 
''  Thy  commandment  is  exceeding  broad."  It  might  very  well 
be  the  case.  The  subject  was  one  especially  fitted  to  the 
preacher's  habit  of  thought.  He  needed  a  broad  subject  to 
give  scope  and  play  to  his  large  mind.  And  a  theme  which 
enabled  him  to  lay  hold  on  and  to  state  great  moral  principles 


17:^  ■    lf:oxaht)  bacon. 

in  their  application  to  tlie  duties  and  welfare  of  men,  always 
was  a  theme  1)V  which  he  easily  rose  to  a  grave  and  commanding- 
eloquence. 

Not  long  after,  too,  in  this  early  period  of  his  ministry  here, 
he  had  the  satisfaction — more  precious  than  any  other  to  a 
Pastor — of  seeing  saving  results  from  his  lahor.  In  1828,  forty- 
eight  persons  united  with  this  church  by  confession  of  Christ. 
In  1831,  in  connection  with  protracted  services  held  here 
whose  solemn  power  has  not  yet  died  out  of  the  vivid  memoi'y 
of  many  in  this  congregation,  one  Imndred  and  eight.  In  1 832, 
thirty-three.  In  1833,  twenty-one.  In  1837,  thirty-four.  The 
witness  of  the  Spirit  could  not  be  mistaken.  The  suggestions 
which  had  occasionally  been  dropped  during  the  tirst  three 
years  of  the  Pastors  labors,  by  some  of  the  congregation  who 
remembered  with  longing  the  revival  times  of  Stuart  and  Tay- 
lor. "  that  New  Haven  needed  a  more  efficient  ministry,""  were 
heard  no  more.  Henceforth  his  position  was  estal)lished  as  a 
minister  honored  of  (irod  and  approved  of  man  for  his  conspic- 
uous tidelity  and  ]50wer  in  the  (lospel. 

But  the  mental  activity  and  prodigious  industry  of  the  young 
Pastor  could  not  limit  his  labor  to  the  routine,  arduous  as  most 
men  find  that  routine  to  be,  of  the  regular  requirements  of  the 
pidpit  and  the  parish.  He  flowed  over  in  all  directions,  even 
in  that  early  day,  with  frequent  contributions  to  the  jiress  and 
addresses  on  topics  of  public  interest  at  the  time. 

More  scholarly  in  its  (juality,  and  distinctly  pastoral  in  its 
aim,  was  his  republication,  in  these  days  of  this  earlier  minis- 
try, of  selected  writings  of  Richard  Baxter  with  editorial  com- 
ments thereon. 

But  the  chief  work,  collateral  to  that  which  he  was  ordained 
to  in  this  pastoral,  charge,  belonging  to  wdiat  may  be  called  the 
first  period  of  the  Pastor's  ministry,  and  a  work  which  he  ful- 
filled as  a  ])art  of  that  ministry,  was  the  preparation  and  preach- 
ing his  thirteen  Historical  Discuurses.  He  had  l>een  set  as  a 
light  in  an  ancient  candlestick.  The  old  church  (tf  whicli  lie 
was  Pastor  had  had  a  long  and  nolde  history.  It  was  a  line  of 
eminent  men  into  whose  succession  he  had  been  brought.  And 
the  history  of  the  First  Church  of  New  Haven  was  essentially 
the  history  of  New  Haven  Colony.     Nay,  it  widened  out  to 


MKMoin.M,  sKinioN.  1  (:; 

still  hroiuU'i-  ivlatioiis,  ('(iimcetiiiii-  itself  with  the  story  of  tlie 
plaiitiiiic  New  Kiiiilaiurs  clinrches  and  a-ovenmit'iits,  and  (»f  tlie 
Puritan  iikin  (.Miiciits  in  tlu*  nii>tliei'  land  from  wjiicli  the  found- 
ers of  New  Haven  had  come.  The  two  hundi'edth  anin\ersai'y 
of  the  ehureh  was  api)i*oachiuu;,  and  as  a  htvin*;  ti'ilmte  to  her 
l)raise  the  Pastor  pre])ared  the  Discour\ses  which  mark  the  arri- 
val of  that  annivei'sary,  and  which  mark  also  the  comidetion  of 
thirteen  years  of  his  own  service  in  hei*  helialf.  Never  had  a 
church  a  more  graceful  and  valuable  offering.  Among  many 
undertakings  siniilai-  in  aim  I  know^  of  none  which  can  for  a 
moment  challenge  comparis(»n  with  that  which  put  this  church 
in  the  ])ossession  of  so  accurate  and  so  attractive  a  chronicle  of 
lier  history.  This  volume  gained  for  its  author  at  once  a  secure 
])lace  among  the  best  writers  of  New  England.  Marked  hy  the 
truest  historic  instinct,  and  written  in  a  style  of  charming  vi- 
vacity and  elegance,  it  constitutes  one  of  the  richest  possessions 
of  the  church  in  whose  service  it  was  undertaken,  as  well  as 
one  of  the  most  significant  tokens  of  the  industry  and  pastoral 
loyalty  of  its  author.  The  Pastor  was  proud  of  his  church. 
Hencefoi'th  the  church  was  proud  of  him.  The  Pastor  with 
filial  iidelity  had  sought  to  do  honor  to  his  predecessors,  and 
to  the  church  whose  representatives  they  were.  The  church 
now  saw  that  among  that  line  of  honored  men  there  was  none 
wortliier  of  love  and  admiration  than  the  man  who  stood  now 
at  thirty-six  years  of  age  her  representative,  borrowing  con- 
spicuity  no  more  from  the  place  he  occupied,  but  conferring 
conspicuity  on  the  place.  Mr.  Bacon  of  New  Haven,  or  Doc- 
tor liacon  as  he  just  about  this  time  began  to  be  called  by 
virtue  of  a  degree  from  Hamilton  College,  was  as  well  recog- 
nized a  reality  as  New  Haven  town. 

At  this  point,  then,  we  may  set  the  mark  of  the  second  great 
division  of  the  story  of  Dr.  Bacon's  relationship  to  this  church. 
Accounting  the  thirteen  years  up  to  the  publication  of  the 
Historical  Discourses  as  the  first  epoch,  and  the  sixteen  years 
after  he  resigned  the  pastoral  care  as  the  third,  there  lies  be- 
tween the  two  a  period  of  about  twenty-seven  years  of  immense 
and  varied  activity.  He  was,  at  the  beginning  of  this  second 
period,  according  to  his  own  judgment  of  the  terms  into  which 
the  life  of  man  is  naturally  divided — as  expressed  in  his  beau- 

13 


174  LEONARD    BACON, 

tiful  sermon  on  the  MHtswre  of  our  Days — "  in  tlie  full  vigoi' 
of  Ills  powers."  Henceforth  liis  life  was  that  of  a  public  man 
as  well  as  that  of  a  parish  minister ;  a  man  of  national  reputa- 
tion and  influence. 

It  is  impossible  in  a  discourse  like  the  present  to  touch  even 
scantily  on  the  diverse  and  manifold  aspects  of  the  work  Dr. 
Bacon  did  during  this  period.  Nor  for  my  design  is  it  needful. 
I  keep  singly  to  my  j)urpose  of  setting  those  things  before  you 
to-day  wherein  the  Pastor  of  this  church  f nihil ed  his  duty  to 
this  charge. 

But  the  main  things  which  interested  him  were  those  in 
which  his  people  had  also  a  concern.  And  the  clash  of  the 
weapons  he  wielded  on  other  llelds  found  a  frecpient  echo 
within  these  walls. 

The  cause  of  Temperance  had  in  Dr.  Bacon  an  earnest  adN^o- 
cate.  At  his  installation  here,  at  the  public  dinner  provided 
by  the  society,  there  was  as  he  tells  us  "  an  ample  supply  not 
only  of  wine  but  also  of  more  perilous  stuff."  But  among  the 
zealous  promoters  of  a  reform  in  the  practices  of  society  in  this 
matter,  and  of  the  legislation  of  the  State  concerning  it,  he  was 
one  of  the  earliest  and  most  strenuous.  I  mention  it  however, 
mainly,  at  this  time,  as  being  one  of  the  first  instances  in  which 
in  his  people's  behalf  he  threw  himself  distinctly  across  the 
prejudices  of  a  very  considerable  number  in  his  congregation, 
and  very  many  in  the  ccjmmunity  about  him,  in  the  advocacy 
of  what  he  believed  to  be  right.  A  pamphlet  published  by 
him  at  about  the  beginning  of  what  I  have  called  by  way  of 
convenience  the  second  period  of  Dr.  Bacon's  ministry,  shows 
at  once  the  vigor  of  his  utterances  on  this  matter  of  temperance 
legislation  and  practice,  and  indicates  plainly  that  his  utterances 
had  subjected  him,  in  certain  quarters  called  highly  resj^ectable 
in  this  town,  to  not  a  little  obloquy  and  reproach.  But  there 
is  reason  to  believe  that  here,  as  on  some  other  flelds  of  effort 
where  he  likewise  crossed  the  prejudices  of  some  of  his  congi-e- 
gation,  he  partly  won  and  partly  compelled  an  ultimate  coinci- 
dence of  opinion  upon  the  matter. 

As  an  earnest  laborer  in  the  great  Benevolent  enterprises  of 
the  day — among  others  of  Missions,  Foreign  and  Home — Dr. 
Bacon  had   few  if  any  su]iei-iors  among  the  pastors  of  New 


MKMOHIAL    SERMON.  175 

Eiiii-land.  Of  iiiaiiy  of  the  societies,  having  these  interests  in 
chariie.  he  \vas  anion<i;  the  fonnders  or  early  directors,  and  he 
brought  to  their  admcacy  hefore  this  chnrcli,  not  only  the 
coninrehensiveness  of  view  which  made  liini  an  intelligent  and 
etfective  ])ronioter  of  the  cause  he  es[)onsed,  but  the  courage 
whicli  did  not  hesitate  to  j)ress  the  ol)ligation  of  beneficence 
upon  his  jiearers.  Tbat  this  church  has  had  and  still  has  an 
honoi'able  recoi'd  upon  the  pages  of  most  of  the  great  organ- 
ized Christian  philanthropies  of  the  time  for  the  largeness  of 
its  pecuniary  bestowals,  is  greatly  owing  to  the  fei'vor  of  his 
interest  and  the  persistency  of  his  appeals  in  their  behalf, 
IFimself  the  child  of  a  missionary,  the  interests  of  missions 
were  always  dear  to  him.  Himself  a  far-seeing  watcher  of  the 
progress  of  God's  kingdom  among  men,  he  discei'iied  well  how 
great  a  share  in  that  kingdom's  growth,  missionary  enterprises 
have  had  in  the  past  and  must  have  in  years  to  come. 

More  conspicuous  in  its  adaptedness  to  draw  public  atten- 
tion, as  well  as  doubtless  more  potent  in  stirring  the  various 
sensibilities  of  his  congregation,  was  Dr.  Bacon's  attitude  and 
endeavor  in  reference  to  Slavery.  His  interest  in  this  subject 
had  begun  early.  And  his  pen,  even  as  far  back  as  his  Semi- 
nary days  at  AndoYer,  had  been  occupied  respecting  it.  From 
1833  to  1846  it  was  employed  often  in  a  series  of  discussions, 
which  frequently  found  their  echo  in  the  pulpit  here,  upon  the 
various  aspects  of  this  national  wrong,  and  which  at  the  later 
of  the  dates  mentioned  were  gathered  into  a  volume.  He 
himself  says  in  the  second  of  his  Four  Commeinorative  Dis- 
burses :  "  From  the  beginning  of  my  official  ministry,  I  spoke 
without  reserve,  from  the  pulpit  and  elsewhere,  against  slavery 
as  a  wrong  and  a  curse,  threatening  disaster  and  ruin  to  the 
nation.  Many  years  I  did  this  withijut  being  blamed  except  as 
I  was  blamed  for  not  going  far  enough.  .  .  .  Yet  you  know 
how  I  have  been  blamed  and  even  execrated,  in  these  later 
years,  for  declaring  here  and  elsewliere  the  wickedness  of  buy- 
ing and  selling  human  beings,  or  of  violating  in  anyway  those 
human  rights  which  are  inseparable  from  human  nature." 
This  contrast  of  treatment  which  the  Pastor's  utterances  met 
and  which  he  so  distinctly  recognized,  grew  out,  not  of  altera- 
tion in  his  sentiments  but  of  alteration  in  the  aspect  of  the 


ITft  LEONARD    BACON. 

problem  of  slavery  itself.  The  question  became  progressively 
less  and  less  a  merely  philanthropic  one,  and  more  and  more  a 
political  one.  As  long  as  it  was  confined  chiefly  to  the  sphere 
of  ethics  and  beneficent  sympathies  the  Pastor's  utterances 
stirred  little  opposition.  But  when  the  (juestion  came  to  be 
one  along  the  line  of  which  parties  divided  in  contest  for  gov- 
ernmental control,  and  the  mercantile  ranks  split  apart  accord- 
ing to  their  interest  in  the  ascendency  of  one  or  another  theory 
of  the  province  of  legislation  respecting  this  sin,  the  case  was 
altered.  The  Pastor  found  himself  in  opposition  to  a  great 
proportion  of  the  friends  and  companions  of  his  earlier  minis- 
terial days  in  the  general  fellowship  of  the  churches,  and  to 
not  a  few  in  the  closer  precincts  of  his  own  congregation.  Yet 
he  himself  rightly  says,  "■  I  have  held  and  always  asserted  the 
same  principles  on  that  subject  which  I  held  and  a,sserted  at 
the  beginning." 

It  was  so.  It  was  the  holding  of  those  principles  which  led 
to  the  Pastor's  early  advocacy  of  the  Colonization  Society ;  it 
was  the  holding  of  them,  too,  which  in  the  altered  condition 
of  the  problem  led  him  to  cease  that  advocacy.  It  was  the  hold- 
ing those  principles  which  led  to  his  espousal  of  the  cause  of  the 
Amistad  captives  and  in  doing  so  to  one  of  his  first  conflicts  in 
the  struggle  which  was  to  last  so  many  years.  Those  principles 
led  him  to  the  long  and  acrimonious  debates  over  the  conduct 
of  the  Tract  Society  affairs,  in  which  he  parted  company  with 
some  of  his  oldest  and  most  intimate  associates.  They  led  him 
to  the  assumption,  in  1848,  of  the  onerous  duties  of  a  joint 
editorship,  with  Drs.  Thompson  and  Storrs,  of  the  Independent^ 
whose  then  unpopular  and  execrated  banner-inscription  was, 
"We  take  our  stand  for  free  soil."  They  led  him  on  Thanks- 
giving day,  1851,  to  preach  from  this  desk  his  sermon  on  The 
Higher  Law  ;  the  adoption  of  which  political  watchword,  and 
the  advocacy  of  which  ethical  principle,  was  by  multitudes  of 
the  most  influential  and  religious  men  of  the  land  and  some  in 
his  own  congregation,  regarded  as  the  ultimate  and  perfect  test 
of  hopeless  and  perilous  fanaticism.  They  led  him  in  1855  to 
advocate,  even  at  the  threatened  ex23ense  of  blood,  resistance 
to  the  incursion  of  slavery  into  Kansas.  They  led  him  later 
on,  when  at  last  the  sti-nggle  of  arms  came,  to  make  this  pul- 


MEMORIAL    SERMON.  177 

pit  a  tower  t"<»c  the  souiidiuii;  out  of  the  battle-cry  f>f  freedom  ; 
and  to  make  these  walls,  dedicated  to  the  gosjjcl  of  peace,  to 
reverberate  with  that  utterance  of  it  which  prochiinis  "  deliv- 
erance to  the  captives"  and  the  setting  ''  at  liberty  them  that 
are  bruised." 

It  was  a  straight-forward,  consistent  course.  But  it  cost  him 
many  friends.  In  other  cities  and  other  fellowships  dear  to 
him,  many  ;  some  here.  Darkened  faces  looked  uy)  at  him 
fi'om  these  pews.  But  he  triumphed,  because  the  right  which 
he  represented  triumphed.  And  without  a  tinge  of  bitterness 
in  the  retrospect,  lie  says  of  these  alienations — let  us  be  thank- 
ful for  the  most  part  oidy  temporary  alienations — "  I  make  no 
complaint.  .  .  .  All  reproaches,  all  insults  endured  in  the  con- 
flict with  so  gigantic  a  wickedness,  are  to  be  received  and 
remembered,  not  as  injuries  but  as  honors." 

Less  frequent  in  flnding  reverl)erating  notes  in  this  place, 
though  occasionally  finding  them,  were  Dr.  Bacon's  activities 
as  a  representative  Congregationalist.  The  Pastor  was  a  Con- 
gregationalist  on  principle.  Into  the  history  and  theory  of  tlie 
polity  he  had  studied  deeply.  Upon  it  he  w^rote  largely.  Of 
its  superiority  to  other  forms  of  Church  government  he  had 
no  doubt.  The  pathetic  and  heroic  story  of  its  struggles  in 
England  and  its  planting  in  America  always  inspired  him.  He 
loved  to  speak  and  preach  upon  it,  and  often  levelled  a  lance 
in  debate  with  defenders  of  other  systems.  The  arrogance  of 
Episcopal  claims  in  especial  always  amused  him  and  often 
kindled  his  sarcasm  or  his  ridicule  ;  while  among  Episcopalians 
were  many  of  his  best-loved  friends.  Presbyterianism  was  a 
system  he  could  and  did  heartily  oppose,  yet  among  Presby- 
terians he  chose  many  dearest  to  him. 

At  all  great  Congregational  assemblies  he  was  a  foremost, 
generally  the  foremost  figure.  At  the  difficult  councils  his 
was  a  guiding  voice.  The  last  extended  j^latform  of  polity 
exj)ressive  of  the  generally  accepted  principles  of  our  churches, 
and  presented  at  the  (.\)uncil  of  1865,  was  drafted  mainly  by 
his  hand.  Beyond  all  comparison  he  was  looked  to  as  the 
typical  Congregationalist  of  America.  Leaning  a  little  in  his 
later  days,  undoubtedly,  more  to  that  side  of  Congregational- 
ism which  makes  for  independency  than  that  whicli  makes  for 


1Y8  LEONARD    BACON. 

nmtual  responsibility,  and  a  little  out  of  sympathy  witli  the 
more  recent  movement  of  our  churches  toward  combination 
and  unity  of  action,  he  was  nevertheless  Congregationalism's 
most  venerated  representative. 

And  few  can  estimate  the  vahie,  in  the  Ecclesiastical  assem- 
blies of  this  Commonwealth  and  the  land — whether  on  occa- 
sions of  stated  and  routine  assembly  or  of  exigent  and 
occasional  gathering — of  the  influence  exerted  by  the  Pastor 
of  this  Church.  No  consideration  of  Dr.  Bacon's  pastoral 
character  could  be  other  than  incomplete  which  did  not  lay 
emphatic  stress  upon  the  work  he  did  in  our  denominational 
Councils  and  Conventions  through  so  many  years.  Through 
him  this  Church  has  had  a  voice  in  the  guidance  of  the 
religious  concerns  of  our  own  State,  and  the  wider  domain  of 
Congregational  Christianity,  superior  perhaps  to  that  of  any 
other.  Unmatched  in  debate,  unequaled  in  wit,  unparalleled  in 
fertility  of  resources,  without  a  peer  in  his  capability  of  sway- 
ing the  deliberations  of  an  assembly,  his  power  was  with  almost 
complete  uniformity  employed  for  the  uses  of  benefit  and  not 
of  strife.  On  many  an  agitated  debate  he  poured  the  oil  of  a 
composing  and  reconciling  wisdom.  Into  any  quarrel  of  an 
ecclesiastical  character  among  the  brotherhood  it  was  diflicult 
to  force  him  to  go. 

While  himself  sturdily  evangelical  in  his  interpretation  of 
Christian  doctrine,  and  showing  a  certain  leonine  contempt  for 
small  assertors  of  independence  and  ''  liberality,"  he  had  large 
allowance  for  those  who  differed  mainly  in  their  philosophic 
statement  of  truth.  In  more  than  one  theological  controversy 
among  leading  ministers  of  this  State,  his  influence  was  that  of 
a  mediator  of  separations,  if  it  could  not  fully  be  that  of  a 
reconciler  of  oppositions. 

This  observation  prompts  to  the  remark  that  Dr.  Bacon, 
spite  of  all  his  capacities  for  conflict,  was  a  peace-loving  man. 

During  the  agitating  periods  of  the  Anti-slavery  struggle 
previous  to  the  war,  he  was  often  called  the  Fighting  Parson, 
The  title  had  a  certain  superficial  jjertinence,  but  it  was  super- 
ficial only.  He  himself  said  of  it  when  spoken  to  on  one 
occasion  concerning  it,  and  said  with  profound  earnestness,  "  I 
nevei-  had   a  controversy  on  merely  personal  gi-ounds  in   my 


MKMOL'I  Al,    SKKMON.  17'.' 

life."  Tlie  declaration  wa.s  nearly  oi-  wholly  true.  And  an- 
f>thei*  tliino;  he" said  was  also  true  in  its  a])i)li('ation  to  himself 
(|nite  as  ninch  as  in  its  application  to  him  of  whom  he  was 
speaking'.  In  his  sermon  at  the  fnneral  of  Dr.  Taylor  he  re- 
marked :  "■  Those  who  knew  Dr.  Taylor  hest,  know  how  painful 
controversy  as  distinguished  from  discussion  was  to  him.  lie 
loved  discussion  ;  but  controversy  with  its  personal  alienations, 
its  exasi)erating  imputations,  and  its  too  frequent  appeals  to 
prejudice  and  ])assion,  was  what  his  soul  abhoi-red."  True  as 
those  words  may  have  been  concerning  Nathaniel  Taylor  they 
could  not  have  better  told  the  truth  concerning  Leonard 
Kacon.  A  sweet  and  tender  heart  was  united  with  his  formi- 
dable powers  of  debate  and,  if  need  be,  of  contlict.  His 
arrow-ti])s  were  not  poisoned.  A  gentle,  almost  deferential 
manner  toward  younger  and  more  humbly  gifted  men,  dis- 
armed envy  and  conciliated  fear.  The  foremost  man  for 
prowess  lie  was  also  well  nigh  the  best-beloved. 

l>ut  how  noAV,  the  question  arises,  how  about  the  distinc- 
tively home  work  of  this  Pastor,  whose  time  was  so  largely 
employed  in  matters  which  had  a  confessedly  important  l)ut 
only  partial  reference  to  this  vineyard  of  the  First  Church  ( 
Well,  the  question  is  a  fair  one.  And  it  deserves  to  be  con- 
sidered, especially  in  a  survey  of  Dr.  Bacon's  life  not  so  much 
as  a  whole  as  in  the  pastoral  aspect  of  it. 

And  I  sujDpose  it  may  be  fairly  said  it  is  a  (piestion  admit- 
ting of  a  divided  answer.  These  public  services  which  so 
largely  engrossed  the  time  and  thought  of  the  Pastoj"  of  this 
Church,  to  a  certain  extent  and  in  some  directions  diminished 
the  effectiveness,  at  least  the  immediate  local  effectiveness,  of 
his  ministry.  To  some  degree  they  gave  excuse  to  an  impres- 
sion that  the  Pastor  was  more  interested  in  things  abroad  than 
at  home.  They  curtailed  the  number  of  fresh  discourses  from 
his  pen,  and  necessitated  the  more  frequent  repetition  of  old 
ones.  They  made  impossible  the  pei'sonal  familiarity  of  the 
Pastor  with  all  the  members  of  his  congregation  which  is,  or 
M'as,  one  of  the  traditions  of  the  New  England  ministry.  That 
they  did  these  things  no  more,  is  itself  a  striking  testimony  to 
the  tremendous  capacity  for  work  lodged  in  the  Pastor's  com- 
paratively slight   frame.       But   that  to   some  extent   they   did 


180  LEONAED    BACON. 

them,  was  uiKjuestionably  in  the  later  days  of  Dr.  Bacon's 
responsible  pastorate,  to  a  degree  recognized.  Bnt  over 
against  whatever  possible  deductions  may  properly  be  made 
from  the  local  and  immediate  effectiveness  of  the  Pastor's  min- 
istry on  the  grounds  spoken  of,  there  were  great  offsets.  The 
Pastor  brought  into  this  place  the  sense  of  power  wielded  on 
other  arenas  of  effort,  and  the  people  recognized  it.  He 
brought  with  him  the  light  and  inspiration  of  large  endeavors 
and  wide  outlooks  and  contacts  with  great  interests  and  men. 
His  lesser  performings  caught  some  subtle  touch  of  vigor  and 
intelligence  from  his  greater  ones.  He  borrowed  strength  in 
his  own  consciousness,  and  in  his  congregation's  eyes  also,  from 
his  acknowledged  supremacy  elsewhere.  A  certain  wise  and 
rational  allowance,  creditable  to  both,  sprang  up  and  main- 
tained itself  between  minister  and  people.  They  knew  the 
pastor  was  doing  a  great  work  and  in  many  ways.  And  he  on 
his  part  knew  that  if  he  gave  his  people  less  than  under 
some  conceivable  circumstances  he  might  have  done,  he 
gave  them  enough.  He  gave  them  a  full  return.  He  loved 
his  people  and  trusted  them.  They  trusted  and  honored  him. 
And  they  had  reason  to.  For  after  all  which  the  alertest  criti- 
cism may  suggest,  what  a  pastorate  his  was  !  Forty-one  and  a 
half  years  of  the'  fully  responsible  portion  of  it.  And  marked 
by  what  excellencies,  in  well  nigh  all  that  goes  to  make  a  pas- 
toral success ! 

His  Sermons.  How  simple  in  construction,  how  clear  in 
expression,  how  direct  in  aim,  how  evangelic  in  sentiment, 
how  solid  in  thought !  They  dealt  always  with  impoi'tant 
matters.  No  bursts  of  inexplicable  passion,  no  rhetorical  dis- 
plays, no  mystical  musings,  no  aspirations  for  the  rare,  the  un- 
expected, the  sensational.  They  were  grave,  strong,  manly 
sermons  ;  not  without  exquisite  passages  of  unsought  beauty, 
and  sometimes  of  noble  elo(]uence,  taking  hold  on  the  main 
question  of  (Christian  truth  and  conduct.  They  had  the  great 
value  of  a  power  of  setting  familiar  things  in  clear  and  fresh 
aspects  and  relations.  They  M^ere  powerful  with  the  strength 
of  a  firm  hold  on  the  great  ])rinciples  of  the  gospel,  and  they 
were  rich  with  the  results  of  a  deep  experience.  They  handled 
a  wide  range  of  matter ;  sometimes  the  highest  of  theology, 


MEMORIAL    SERMOX.  ISI 

but  then  with  reverence  and  skill;  sometimes  the  most  delicate 
in  moral  behavior,  but  then  with  consummate  j)roprietj  and 
taste.  Thev  swept  the  field  of  faitli  and  |)i-aetice  as  tlioroughly 
as  any  pastor's  anvwliere.  'Plicy  were  such  sermons  as  are  an 
education  to  a  congreijation.  And  they  found  the  center  of 
their  inspiration  and  the  end  of  tlieir  aim  in  loyaltv  to  Christ 
the  Saviour  and  the  Kin"-.  Clirist  tlie  redeemer  for  sin; 
Christ  the  contiueror  of  death  ;  (^hrist  the  ruler  of  the  world; 
Christ  the  head  of  the  kiniJ::dom  wliich  is  to  come— these  were 
the  mighty  truths  out  of  a  j)rofound  conviction  and  love  of 
which  those  sermons  came. 

And  his  Prayei-s.  The  beauty  and  propriety  and  sober 
fervor  of  his  ])i-ayers  were  something  wonderful.  In  these  un- 
premeditated but  marvelously  simple  and  appropriate  outpour- 
ings of  his  mind  and  heart  he  came  closer  to  his  people  than 
in  his  sermons,  even  at  their  best.  He  had  the  instinct  to  take 
up  and  upbear  the  connnon  want  or  the  special  necessity  of  the 
hour,  in  an  utterance  of  sweetness  and  majesty  which  it  is  given 
to  few  ever  to  attain.  The  listening  and  corworshiping  congre- 
gation were  never  jarred  by  inharmonious  suggestions,  never 
put  in  doubt  as  to  the  full  propriety  of  the  utterance ;  they 
rested  upon  and  went  along  with  his  prayers  in  entire  respon- 
siveness to  their  devout  and  gracious  supplication  and  thanks- 
giving. No  liturgical  utterances  of  prayer  one  can  anywhere 
find,  are  more  jierfect  types  of  what  prayer  should  be,  than  the 
petitions  which  rose  from  his  lips  in  this  pulpit  and  in  the 
family  and  by  the  side  of  the  open  grave,  often  were. 

And  his  pastoral  ministrations  in  his  people's  homes.  The 
sincerity  of  his  sympathy,  the  tenderness  of  his  instruction,  the 
wisdom  of  his  counsel,  the  fervency  with  which  he  implored 
restoration  to  the  sick,  or  asked  comfort  for  the  bereaved,  these 
things  are  all  known  to  you.  And  he  had  been  taught  thus 
effectively  to  minister  to  others,  by  the  discipline  of  personal 
grief.  Death  had  come  into  his  circle  many  times.  Infant  days 
and  manly  and  womanly  years  had  alike  been  broken  off  in  his 
household.  The  variety  and  the  l)itterness  of  bereavement  was 
fully  known  to  him.  And  from  the  school  of  that  personal 
knowledge  of  tribulation  he  borrowed  the  experience  which 
made  his  words  and  liis  silent  presence,  so  often  a  consolation  in 


182  LEONARD    BACON. 

yonr  abodes.  Into  too  many  of  the  homes  in  this  city  lias  he 
borne  the  Pastoi"'s  offices  of  help  in  honrs  of  joy  and  honrs  of 
sorrow,  to  make  it  needfnl  to  say  more. 

Ah  yes,  take  it  all  in  all,  it  was  about  an  ideal  pastorate ! 

But  the  time  at  last  came  when  in  the  Pastor's  judgment  it 
seemed  best  that  he  should  be  relieved  of  the  responsible  duties  of 
his  office.  He  announced  this  conviction  in  a  sermon  preached 
on  the  twelfth  of  March,  1865,  the  fortieth  anniversary  of  his 
settlement.  He  was  then  sixty-three  years  of  age.  His  eye 
was  not  dinnned  nor  his  force  abated.  But  he  was  the  oldest 
pastor  in  Connecticut  in  active  service,  and  he  had  done  an 
amount  of  work  no  other  pastor  had  done.  AVith  characteristic 
happiness  of  expression,  and  characteristic  forecast  of  what 
would  be  wise  in  the  case  of  most  men  he  said :  "  I  am  old 
enough  now,  to  ask  for  relief ;  and  at  the  same  time  I  am  not 
too  old  to  receive  it  without  feeling  that  I  am  slighted  by  the 
offer  of  it." 

In  acceding  to  this  suggestion  on  tlie  Pastor's  part,  the 
Society  recorded  its  inability  to  "  see  any  symptoms  of  decline 
of  power  which  should  lead  liim  to  wish  relief,"  but  expressed 
a  willingness  to  yield  to  his  detinitely  declared  desire,  having 
lirst  made  "  some  suitable  provision  for  our  Pastor's  remaining 
years,  after  the  termination  of  his  ministry  among  us."  Such 
suitable  and  honoral)le  provision  having  been  made,  the  Pastor 
resigned  his  office,  and  on  the  ninth  of  September,  18H5 — to  a 
day  just  forty-one  and  a  half  years  fi'om  the  March  ninth,  1825, 
of  his  installation — he  preached  a  sermon  entitled,  The  Pastor 
retiring  from  his  official  work.  But  how  little  of  a  "retire- 
ment!" How  little  Pastoi"  and  people  foresaw  what  was  before 
them,  or  how  long  still  a  nniltitude  of  the  ])ractical  services  of 
the  pastorate  were  to  be  fultilled  by  the  same  beloved  man. 
The  event  however  serves  detinitely  to  mark  a  new  ])eriod  in 
Dr.  Bacon's  life  and  his  relationship  to  this  church,  and  one 
which  presents  him  to  us  in  an  aspect  certainly  as  admii-able 
and  lovable  as  any  beside. 

C^oincident  in  point  of  time  with  the  Pastor's  resignation  of 
his  office,  an  invitation  which  he  calls  a  ""most  unexpected 
invitation"  to  a  Professorship  in  the  Theological  Seminary 
l.iere  was  laid  hefoiv  him.      He  accepted  it  ''•reluctantly"  and 


MKMOIUAL    SERMOX.  188 

went  as  lie  artiniifd.  "IkhiikI  in  Hie  spirit,  under  a  sort  of 
necessity"  laid  upon  liim.  And  lie  added  eorreetly  :  "There 
is  no  promotion  in  going  from  this  pulpit  to  a  theological  chair.'" 
Certainly  there  was  not  for  such  a  Pastor.  lie  can-icd  more 
with  him  than  in  any  such  transfer  he  could  receive. 

I)Ut  having  entered  upon  it,  he  identitied  himself  with  the 
Institution  with  liis  usual  enthusiasm.  lie  contemplated,  as 
he  said,  a  "  term  of  service  at  the  longest  very  short,^'  hut  he 
remained  an  active  worker  there  for  sixteen  years. 

And  in  many  ways  his  connection  with  the  seminary  marks 
a  new  epoch  in  its  history.  Tlis  association  witli  it  was  emi- 
nently intiuential  in  securing  the  needful  funds  for  its  welfare. 
ITe  took  pleasure  in  its  stones.  How  well  I  remember  tlie  sat- 
isfaction which  was  in  his  face  on  one  gray  day  in  July,  1869, 
when  he  came  to  my  room  to  invite  me  to  see  the  first  ground 
broken  for  the  erection  of  the  beautiful  edifice  which  stands  on 
the  corner  of  Elm  and  College  streets ;  whose  unoccupied  niche 
underneath  the  window  of  his  room  could  not  be  more  appro- 
priately tilled  than  by  his  sculptured  iigure.  And  at  every  step  of 
the  Institution's  history  and  development  since — not  a  little  of 
which  has  been  owing  to  the  connection  with  it  of  the  ex-Pastor 
of  this  C^hurch — his  interest  in  it  has  been  like  that  of  a  man 
whose  whole  life,  instead  of  what  he  called  his  years  of  "  deca- 
dence and  decay,"  had  been  given  to  it.  And  one  effect  of 
that  connection  with  the  Seminary  was,  I  think,  personally 
favorable.  It  l)rought  him  into  constant  contact  with  young 
men  and  it  helped  to  keep  him  young.  It  was  a  matter  of 
frequent  remark  and  possibly  may  have  been  true,  that  Dr. 
Bacon's  preaching  in  this  pulpit  was  younger  and  more  alert  in 
the  years  succeeding  his  resignation  than  it  had  l)een  for  several 
years  before. 

But  anyway  his  youthfulness  was  surprising.  However  the 
body  aged  the  spirit  never  grew  old.  The  restless  mind  was 
hungry  to  the  end.  In  his  fortieth-year  sermon  he  had  said  : 
"  I  know  more  now  than  I  knew  a  year  ago.  I  hope  to  know 
more  next  year  than  I  kno\v  now."  In  his  tiftieth-year  sermon 
he  said :  "•  I  know  more  than  I  knew  ten  years  ago,  and  I  am 
still  a  learner,  and  hope  to  be  a  learner  to  the  end."  And  so 
he  was,  the  freshest  and  alertest  man  there  was  in  Connecti- 
cut's ministry  to  the  last. 


184  LEONARD   BACON, 

To  this  period  belongs  that  other  witness  to  the  industry  of 
the  only  half-retired  Pastor's  hand  and  brain,  the  volume  on 
the  Genesis  of  the  New  Emjland  Ohurches;  a  volume,  however, 
which  being  not  distinctly  pastoral  in  motive  I  leave  with  only 
this  mention. 

But  another  aspect  of  Dr.  Bacon's  last  period  of  life  has  a 
still  closer  connection  with  the  history  of  this  church,  and 
exhil)its  in  a  yet  more  striking  way  this  ({uality  of  tlie  man. 
The  old  Pastor  was  to  sustain  the  experience — it  may  be  the 
trial — ^of  a  successor,  nay  of  two  of  them.  It  is  an  experience 
proverbially  difficult  for  a  minister  gracefully  to  bear.  Two 
very  eminent  pastors  in  Connecticut  had  been  put  to  the  trial 
of  it  only  a  little  while  before,  and  had  rather  conspicuously 
failed.  But  this  pastor  did  not  fail.  Did  Dr.  Bacon  ever  fail 
anywhere  ? 

In  a  long  and  most  kindly  letter  which  he  wrote  to  me  in 
Septend)er,  1868,  while  my  acceptance  of  the  call  of  this 
church  given  me  some  months  before  was  still  pending,  he  says 
— and  I  quote  it  with  personal  reluctance,  and  only  to  set  his 
position  toward  a  successor  in  its  true  light — "  I  have  no  fear 
that  my  relations  with  you  will  be  other  than  pleasant.  With- 
out assuming  to  be  anything  niore  than  a  jpastor  emeritus^ 
having  no  official  charge  or  duty  in  the  congregation,  I  trust 
I  shall  always  be  ready  to  lighten  your  burthen  if  in  any  way  I 
shall  be  able  to  do  so.  While  it  will  be  in  some  sort  a  trial  for 
me  to  see  the  peojjle  thinking  more  of  you  and  less  of  me  ;  and 
loving  you  more  than  they  have  ever  loved  me,  I  hope  to 
see  it  with  humble  thankfulness,  and  not  with  jealousy."  And 
every  word  of  that  utterance  was  more  than  fulfilled.  He  was 
the  most  magnanimous  man  I  ever  knew.  Had  I  been  his  son 
after  the  flesh  he  could  not  have  been  more  co(')perative  or 
kind.  Ahvays  ready  to  help  when  asked,  he  never  volunteered 
even  advice  ;  he  never  in  any  instance  or  the  slightest  ])articu- 
lar  gave  me  reason  to  wish  he  had  said  or  done  anything  other- 
wise. Ap])arently  incapable  of  jealousy — even  had  there  been 
vastly  more  opj)()rtunity  for  it  than  thei-e  was — he  was  to  the 
pastor  who  followed  him  a  supporter  and  comfoil  always.  So 
was  he  to  his  immediate  successor;  so  was  he  I  doubt  not  to 
mine. 


♦  MEMORIAL   SKKMUN.  1^5 

The  ttM-miiiatioii  of  tliese  two  brief  ])iist<>rates  and  tlie  iiiter- 
reghnin  between  tlieni  devolved  upon  tlie  elder  i*astor,  in  tliese 
sixteen  years  aftei-  liis  otiieial  resitijiiation,  a  <ri-eat  <leal  of  that 
paroeliial  work  which  he  had  ostensibly  Uiid  aside.  In  his  ser- 
mon at  the  layini>'  down  of  his  oifiee  he  had  said  :  "  Till  the  time 
comes  when  you  ai-e  without  another  Pastor,  call  for  lue  as 
freely  as  heretofore,  when  any  is  sick  among-  you,  and  wliere  the 
\nndows  are  darkened  by  death."  And  while  that  pastor  was 
yet  coming ;  and  in  the  more  than  two  years  interregnum  after 
his  departure  before  the  ari'i\al  of  a  second  ;  and  in  the  more 
than  two  and  a  half  years  again,  which  have  ehipsed  since  that 
second's  removal,  the  old  Pastor  has  been  the  shepherd  of  this 
flock.  Speaking  from  time  to  time  from  this  pulpit  with  in- 
creasing pathos  and  earnestness;  sitting  nearly  every  sabbath 
on  this  platform  where  his  presence  was  a  perpetual  benedic- 
tion, he  has  come  at  your  call,  as  he  did  aforetime  from  the 
first,  to  comfort  your  suffering  ones,  to  baptize  your  children, 
to  bury  your  dead.  He  has  fulfilled  up  to  the  end — far  beyond 
any  duration  contemplated  when  the  words  were  spoken — the 
promise  implied  in  his  tender  exhortation  when  he  laid  his 
office  down  :  "  Let  no  member  of  this  congregation  think  that 
the  tie  between  you  and  me  is  broken,  or  that  it  is  weakened, 
so  long  as  you  are  without  another  Pastor."  And  so  he  has 
left  you  a  second  time  bereaved.  So  he  has  twice  laid  down  his 
trust  respecting  you,  this  time  forever.  This  place  is  lonesome 
without  him.  This  flock  is  unsliepherded.  Many  times  more 
than  when  his  successor  oi-  his  successor's  successor  went  are 
you  without  a  guide  and  comforter. 

But  for  him  what  a  change  !  and  for  you  what  a  retrospect ! 

For  him  the  entrance  on  that  larger  life  of  activity  and  bless- 
edness for  which  he  yearned  and  of  which  he  spoke  in  one  of 
those  Gommemorative  Discourses  to  which  I  have  had  occa- 
sion so  many  times  to  refer  :  "  Not  '  three  score  years  and  ten,' 
nor  '  four  score  years'  are  enough  for  the  capabilities  of  our 
intelligent,  affectionate  and  spiritual  nature.  The  machinery 
of  this  mortal  body  may  be  clogged  and  broken,  may  wear  out 
and  be  useless,  but  it  is  only  a  life  beyond  the  reach  of  these 
infirmities  that  can  satisfy  the  soul.  '  And  now  Lord  what 
wait  I  for  ?     My  hope  is  in  thee.'  " 


ISH  LEONARD    BACON. 

And  for  you  what  a  retrospect !  The  retrospect  of  a  luiuis- 
terial  life  in  your  service  of  nearly  fifty-seven  years  duration. 
The  retrospect  of  as  large  powers  as  have  in  oui*  generation 
been  bestowed  upon  any  man,  devoted  here  to  the  salvation  of 
souls  and  the  welfare  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ..  The  retro- 
spect of  a  history  which  is  built  into  the  fabric  of  this  old  first 
church  of  JSTew  Haven,  and  is  henceforth  an  inseparable  part  of 
its  renown.  For  in  the  long  catalogue  of  M^orthies  in  the  pas- 
torate of  this  church,  from  the  l)road  minded  and  saintly  Da- 
venport whom  your  Pastor  so  reverenced  and  eulogized,  to  him 
whose  loss  we  to-day  deplore,  no  name  shines  with  brighter 
luster,  if  indeed  any  beams  with  so  various  and  eifulgent  i-ay, 
as  the  name  of  Leonard  Bacon. 


[FiioM  THE  independent: 


•MARKABI-E  SUCCESSION  OF  PASTORS. 


Reminiscences  of  a  former  Parishioner. 


By  Prop.  Lyman  H.  Atwater,  D.D.,  LL.D. 


The  recent  death  of  Dr.  Leonard  Bacon  reviAes  some  recol- 
lections of  him  and  of  the  antecedents  and  surroundings  of 
his  early  pastorate  in  the  church  of  my  nativity  and  nurture, 
which  could  not  readily  occur  to  those  eminent  men,  not 
members  of  his  flock,  who  have  drawn  such  admirable  sketches 
of  him  in  Tlie  Independent.  In  that  ancient  church  of  my 
childhood  and  youth  I  trace  back  an  unbroken  lineage,  natural 
and  ecclesiastical,  to  one  of  its  first  founders,  in  1638.  He  was 
driven  by  the  persecutions  of  Laud  to  these  then  inhosjoitable 
shores,  and  joined  in  the  attempt  to  found  a  ''  church  without 
a  bishop  and  a  state  without  a  king." 

While  yet  a  mere  boy,  I  witnessed  the  installation  of  young 
Mr.  Bacon,  then  barely  twenty-three  years  old  and  of  a  some- 
what diminutive  stature,  which,  aside  of  a  certain  marked 
intellectuality  in  his  look,  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  stripling 
daring  to  follow  the  giants  who  had,  within  the  fresh  memory 
of  the  congregation,  preceded  him.  The  assembly  crowded 
the  seats  and  aisles,  according  to  the  custom  of  the  time,  when 
ordinations  and  installations  were  great  occasions.  The  Rev. 
Joel  Hawes,  Pastor  of  the  First  Church  in  Hartford,  then 
coming  to  the  zenith-  of  what  I  once  heard  Dr.  Bacon  call  his 
"  great  ministry,"  preached  the  sermon.     It  is  indicative  of  the 


188  LEONARD    BACON. 

eliang;e  that  has  been  effected,  and  Avas  then  just  ahout  to  coni- 
inenee,  that  a  considerable  item  in  the  bill  against  the  ecclesias- 
tical society  for  the  expenses  of  entertaining  the  installing 
council  was  for  the  liquors  furnished  it.  A  short  time  after, 
the  Kev.  Kathaniel  Ilewit,  of  Fairfield,  to  whom,  in  my  judg- 
ment, more  than  any  other,  belongs  the  credit  of  doing  the  first 
effective  pioneer  work  in  breaking  up  the  old  drinking  usages 
of  society,  exchanged  on  a  Sabbath  with  the  new  Pastor.  With 
overpowering  eloquence  he  denounced  the  "use  of  distilled 
liquors  as  a  beverage."  He  so  astonished  and  startled  the  con- 
gregation that  not  a  few  came  away  saying  that  a  madman  had 
l)een  preaching.  It  was  not  long,  however,  before  they  conclu- 
ded that  the  madness,  if  anywhere  was  in  themselves.  The 
great  l)ody  of  the  people  soon  adopted  Dr.  Hewit's  view  in 
their  practice.  I  advert  to  these  things  as  signs  of  the  opening 
of  a  new  era  of  religious  development  and  field  of  ministerial 
work  at  the  threshold  of  his  pastoral  career. 

Meanwhile,  let  us  look  for  a  little  at  the  antecedents  of  his 
ministry,  as  found  in  the  persons,  characteristics,  and  influence 
of  his  two  immediate  predecessors,  l^athaniel  W.  Taylor  and 
Moses  Stuart,  whose  pastorates,  along  with  Dr.  Bacon's,  in  the 
Central  church  of  New  Haven,  have  filled  out  the  past  of  this 
century,  save  half  a  dozen  years  at  its  beginning.  Mr.  Stuart 
followed  a  Pastor  not  wanting  in  intellect  and  learning,  but 
who,  being  trained  at  Harvard,  had  much  of  the  tone  and  spirit 
which  dominated  those  pulpits  of  Eastern  Massachusetts  that 
afterwards  sunk  into  ITnitarianism.  This,  with  other  causes, 
had  fostered  an  orderly  (piietude  in  the  congregation,  already 
tending  to  stagnation  and  deadness.  Dr.  Bacon  observes  in  his 
"Historical  Discourses"  (p.  279)  that  "hardly  any  two  things, 
both  worthy  to  be  called  preaching,  could  be  more  unlike  than 
that  of  the  old  Pastor  and  that  of  the  young  candidate"  (Mr. 
Stuart).  That  of  the  latter  was  bold,  pointed,  evangelical, 
fervid,  electric.  It  was  replete  with  the  magnetic  persoiuility 
of  the  man  and  overmastered  his  hearers  with  the  powers  of  the 
world  to  come.  The  same  qualities  in  his  professor's  chair 
afterward  made  him  a  marvelous  inspiration  to  his  pupils  and  the 
great  pioneer  in  giving  Hebrew  and  Greek  exegesis  its  due 
prominence    in    ministerial    education.     The  four  years  of  his 


LKONAin)    BACON.  189 

pastorate  in  the  First  Cluirch  were  marked  l)y  a  powerful  revi- 
val, M'liich  oreatly  eiilai'i^ed  and  (piickeiied  it  and  put  vital  reli- 
gion in  new  aseendeney  anionii;  the  people.  He  left  in  ISIO, 
to  take  the  professorslii])  which  he  so  long  adorned  in  the  oldest 
theolotrical  seminary  of  the  oonntrv.  This  was  before  my  day  ; 
l)nt  I  well  i-enieml)er  that  my  parents  and  others  who  felt  the 
power  of  his  ministry  never  wearied  of  repeating  his  praises 
as  pi'eaeher  and  Pastor  to  the  generation  following.  I  once 
heard  his  successor,  Dr.  Taylor,  say  that  the  most  powerful 
.preachers  to  whom  he  had  listened  were  Moses  Stuart  and 
Asahel  Nettleton.  Not,  he  took  pains  to  say,  in  the  sense  of 
being  elaborate  and  magnificent  pulpit  orators,  like  Robert 
TIall,  but  in  the  sense  of  accomplishing  the  true  end  of  preach- 
ing. Tie  proceeded  to  illustrate  his  statement  by  sketching  a 
serinon  of  each,  as  he  heard  it,  and  showing  what  in  them 
respectively  overpowered  the  audience  with  a  sense  of  G-od  and 
now. 

I  )r.  Taylor  followed  Professor  Stuart,  after  an  interval  ex- 
ceeding two  years,  as  Pastor  of  the  church,  continuing  such 
from  April,  1812,  to  December,  1822.  Although  myself  1)orn 
sometime  after  his  ordination,  my  recollections  of  him  as 
preacher  and  Pastor  dui'ingthe  latter  years  of  his  pastorate  are 
vivid  and  distinct.  It  is  not  to  his  subsequent  career,  the  bril- 
liant teacher  and  defender  of  the  theological  system  which  bore 
his  name,  some  peculiarities  of  which  I  was  unable  to  accept, 
notwithstanding  great  admiration  of  him  personally,  that  I 
now  refer.  I  touch  only  recollections  or  traditions  of  his  pas- 
torate. 

In  person  he  was  a  rare  specimen  of  manly  beauty.  His 
frame  was  at  once  robust  and  symmetrical.  Plis  countenance 
in  all  its  jiarts  and  proportions  was  not  only  of  rare  strength 
and  beauty,  but,  with  lustrous  black  eyes  and  overhanging 
brows,  surmounted  l)y  a  massive  forehead,  once  called  by  Dr. 
Bacon  the  "  dome  of  thought,"  had  a  singular  majesty,  com- 
bined M'ith  equal  geniality  of  expression.  As  compared  with 
average  men,  there  was  something  imperial  in  the  nuin,  within 
and  without.  This,  of  itself,  especially  as  expressed  in  a  cor- 
respondent voice,  in  prayers  and  sermons,  which  fully  articu- 
lated them,  made  a  profound  impression  upon  the  congrega- 

14 


I  DO  LEONARD    BACON. 

tion — even  upon  youth  and  cliildren,  who,  like  myself,  could 
understand  little  of  the  deep  reasonings  which  formed  so  much 
of  the  web  and  woof  of  many  of  his  great  sermons.  The 
terms  "  moral  agency,"  ''  moral  and  natural  ability,"  ''  moral 
and  natural  evil,"  ringing  out  from  his  closely-reasoned  dis- 
courses, still  linger  in  my  memory,  as  do  some  of  his  solemn 
and  stirring  appeals  to  the  impenitent,  in  such  sermons  as  the 
'•  Harvest  Past,"  while  I  do  not  forget  his  scathing  exposures 
and  rebukes  of  immorality  in  preaching  from  "  A  false  balance 
is  abomination  to  the  Lord."  In  his  personal  and  pastoral  rela- 
tions Dr.  Taylor  was  all  that  might  be  inferred  from  these 
special  traits  and  endowments,  at  once  so  winning  and  com- 
manding. He  was  both  loved  and  revered  ;  enthroned  in  the 
liearts  of  his  people.  Four  revivals  of  gi-eat  power  signalized 
his  ministry  of  less  than  twelve  years,  still  further  continuing 
the  advance  in  numbers  and  piety  begun  under  the  ministr}^  of 
his  predecessor.  During  his  incumbency  the  church  edifice, 
which  has  long  held  its  place  as  a  model  one,  was  built. 

To  fill  the  vacancy  arising  from  his  removal  to  the  chair  of 
didactic  theology  in  Yale  Divinity  School  was,  of  course,  no 
easy  task.  Among  the  candidates  either  thought  of  or  actually 
invited  to  it,  I  well  remember  the  names  of  Edward  Beecher, 
(Jarlos  Wilcox,  Samuel  H.  Cox  and  Albert  Barnes ;  but  young 
Mr.  Bacon  was  finally  called,  after  more  than  two  years'  trial 
of  candidates,  with  much  hesitation  and  a  considerable  minor- 
ity ill  opposition,  not  so  much  from  any  positive  dislike  as  a 
not  unnatural  fear  that  one  so  young,  whatever  his  gifts, 
might  prove  unecpial  to  the  demands  of  a  congregation  so 
large,  influential,  and  with  tastes  and  standards  formed  by  such 
predecessors.  And  well  might  any  successor  of  them  ask: 
"  Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  ?" 

Aside  from  this  training,  the  material  of  the  congregation 
was  such  as  might  well  appal  not  only  Shallow  Splurges  and 
novices,  but  strong  and  mature  preachers.  In  the  middle  aisle 
I  well  remember  the  stately  forms  of  Noah  Webster,  the  great 
lexicographer ;  James  liillhouse,  a  mighty  man  in  the  Senate 
of  the  United  States,  and  in  the  legislature  of  his  own  State, 
whose  public  spirit  made  New  Haven  a  city  of  elms  and 
opened  its  thoroughfares  of    transportation  and  travel  to  the 


I.KONAKI)    MACON.  I'.H 

interior;  Eli  Wliituev,  the  inventor  of  tlie  c'(>tton-i>in.  Tn 
pews  of  one  of  the  side  aisles  I  saw  around  me  Seth  i*. 
Staples,  Samuel  »I.  iritchcock,  and  Dennis  Kimberly,  anions- 
the  foremost  of  the  Comiecticut  l>ar;  Jonatlian  Kni<»;ht,  the 
peer  of  the  hig'hest  as  a  medical  practitioner  and  lecturer; 
Henry  Trowbrid^^e,  the  founder  of  the  great  mercantile  house 
of  II.  Trowbridge's  Sons;  Ste])hen  Twining,  assistant  treasure!' 
of  Yale  College;  with  many  others,  not  only  in  this  but  other 
])arts  of  the  house,  scarcely  less  ennneut  in  higli  walks  of  life. 
It  is  not  surprising  that  the  young  minister's  capacity  was  at 
once  sevei'ely  tested ;  that,  as  with  so  many  others,  his  tirst 
three  years  proved  the  "teething-time  of  his  ministry";  or 
that  those  were  not  wanting  who  were  keener  to  detect  points 
of  inferiority  to  his  predecessors  than  signs  of  promise  in  the 
rapid  development  of  rarest  gifts  peculiar  to  him.self.  These, 
however,  soon  gradually  made  themselves  conspicuous  to  all 
and  unquestioned  by  any,  while  they  were  peculiarly  iitted  to 
the  era  of  his  consummate  strength  in  the  ministry. 

I  have  already  intimated  that  the  "  new  de])arture"  of  the 
church,  whose  beginning  was  almost  synchronous  with  that  of 
his  ministry,  was  in  the  way  of  moral  reform  and  reformatory 
agencies  and  organizations,  among  which  those  for  the  j)ronio- 
tion  of  temperance,  in  the  form  of  entire  abstinence  from  in- 
toxicating liquors  as  a  beverage,  was  foremost.  But  in  the 
wake  of  this  came  radical  movements  against  slavery,  which 
more  and  more  leavened  the  churches,  and  thence  politics,  till 
its  overthrow  by  the  Civil  War.  Among  the  eddies  in  this 
current  were  various  fanaticisms  on  these  and  other  subjects — 
such  as  perfectionism,  vegetarianism,  manual  labor  schools, 
together  with  eccentric  socialisms,  some  of  which  perished, 
while  others  developed  into  such  warts  and  wens  of  the  body 
politic  as  the  Oneida  Community  and  other  monstrosities. 
About  this  time,  too,  Home  and  Foreign  Missions,  with  all  the 
agencies  of  gospel  propagandism  among  the  unevangelized  in 
this  and  other  lands,  received  an  unexampled  expansion. 
With  due  limitations,  it  might  safely  be  said  that  the  revival 
era  of  the  first  third  of  the  century  was  culminating  and  the 
reformatory  and  missionary  era  of  the  next  third  of  it  was 
developing.     Not  that  revivals  ceased  in  the  latter  period  or 


192  LEONARD    BACON. 

tliat  missions  and  moral  reform  enterprises  were  before  un 
known  ;  but  that  each  received  its  most  conspicuous  develop- 
ment in  the  respective  periods  named.  American  revivals 
reached  their  zenith,  especially  in  New  Haven  and  Yale  Col- 
lege, in  tlie  great  awakening  of  1831.  In  its  full  noon-tide  Dr. 
Sereno  Dwiglit  said,  in  an  ecstasy  of  jubilation :  "  I  do  not 
see  why  we  may  not  consider  tlie  Millennium  as  now  com- 
mencing." 

We  have  had  many  good  things  since  which  then  were  not ; 
but  religious  awakenings,  not  entirely,  indeed,  but  so  extended, 
pervasive  and  transforming  as  tlien  prevailed,  have  for  long, 
unless  in  exceptional  cases,  been  things  of  the  past.  The  con- 
ditions leading  to  them  have  changed.  The  Sunday  schools 
and  Young  Men's  Christian  Associations  have  had  a  large 
development.  Quiet  ingatherings  into  the  church  through 
and  from  these  have  largely  taken  the  place  of  those  mighty 
visitations  of  God  which  then  seized  great  numbers  grown  up 
to  manhood  in  Christian  congregations,  but  without  hope  and 
without  (lod  in  the  world. 

During  this  era,  too,  the  power  of  the  press,  especially  in 
the  form  of  religious  journalism,  has  had  a  vast  development. 
The  people  have  ac(|uired  a  distaste  for  the  old-style  sermon, 
too  often  a  skeleton  of  theological  abstractions,  dead,  dry,  and 
dull,  except  when  alive  and  hot  with  polemic  fire.  They 
craved  something  of  the  freshness  and  beauty  which  came 
from  literary  culture,  as  well  as  the  glow  of  impassioned  evan- 
gelical fervor  in  the  pulpit. 

To  meet  the  demands  of  such  a  period,  Dr.  Bacon  was 
remarkably  furnished.  During  his  educational  career,  he  had 
not,  indeed,  sought  eminent  scholarship.  To  original  genius, 
including  the  poetic  gift,  evinced  in  hymns  that  live  and  will 
live,  he  added  an  acquaintance  with  English  literature,  then 
rare,  especially  among  the  clergy.  He  was  thus  master  of  the 
purest  English  style  and  gained  a  breadth  of  view  and  versa- 
tility of  mind  which  not  only  gave  great  chasten  ess,  vivacity, 
and  force  to  his  pulpit  exercises,  but  fitted  him  to  shine  with 
peculiar  brilliancy  in  all  miscellaneous  sermons  and  addresses 
on  special  subjects  and  occasions.  For  many  years  he  was 
foremost  among  those  sought  to  adorn  and  enliven  great  days 


KKOXAlil)    IIACON.  198 

with  great  discourses,  as  one  who  in  tliis  line  had  no  peer.  IFc 
also  ra}>idly  i2,ained  a  i>;reat  ri'pivtatioii  as  a  contributor  to  (juar- 
terly,  monthly,  and  weekly  journals.  I'Or  years  his  articles  in 
the  ChristiiOi  Sjxctdtor  were,  if  not  the  nu»st  ponderous,  the 
most  readable,  the  nu)st  (piickly  and  widely  read  of  any.  They 
were  seldom  distinctively  theological.  They  struck  out  nu)re 
into  the  practical  and  refornuitory,  the  evangelistic  and  niis- 
sionarv  departments  of  (Hiristian  work.  They  were  spiced 
with  wit  aiul  satire  at  the  expense  of  those  he  deemed  exti-eme 
in  their  radicalism  or  conservatism.  He  used  these  weapons 
with  increasing  caution  and  gentleness  as  advancing  years  mel- 
lowed his  s])irit,  without  enfeebling  his  pen.  He  wrote  more 
u])on  theology,  as  the  drift  of  theological  discussion,  which  set 
in  after  the  Bushnell  controversy,  was  more  suited  to  his  gifts 
and  his  tastes.  He  pronounced  the  previous  iNTew  England 
theology  "  provincial."  In  this,  if  not  in  some  other  estimates 
of  Dr.  Bushnell's  theology,  as  related  to  wdiat  preceded  it,  I 
(juite  agree.  He  was  more  an  ecclesiastic  than  a  theologian.  I 
could  say  much  more ;  but  space  forbids,  and  it  is  superfluous 
to  repeat  what  has  l)een  so  w^ell  said  by  others. 

Such  a  trio  of  pastors  immediately  succeeding  each  other  in 
the  same  church  and  together  presiding  over  it  so  long,  is 
worth  noting.  The  like  is  rarely,  if  ever,  to  be  found  in  church 
annals. 


{FROM  THE  INDEPENDENT.] 


UR.  STORKS'  TRIBUTE  TO  DR.  BACON. 


[Only  one  of  the  original  four  members  of  the  editorial  staff 
of  The  Independent  now  lives  to  speak  of  the  sudden  death 
of  their  gifted  and  beloved  senior  associate,  the  Rev.  Leonard 
Bacon,  D.D.  We  know  our  readers  will  be  glad  to  see  the 
following  from  the  Rev.  R.  S.  Storrs,  D.D.,  in  relation  to  this 
sad  event,  and  it  is  htting  that  he  should  appear  in  his  old  posi- 
tion in  our  editorial  columns.] 

Bkooklyn,  December  26,  1881. 

To  the  Editor  of  the  Independent : 

It  would  be  wholly  impossible,  in  the  fragments  of  time 
which  are  all  that  I  can  command  to-day,  to  present  any  tit  and 
sufficient  description  of  the  character  and  the  powers  of  our 
beloved  and  honored  friend.  Dr.  Bacim.  I  cannot  even  wor- 
thily express  my  personal  sense  of  affectionate  and  admiring 
honor  for  him,  and  my  grief  that  I  shall  not  see  again  his  face 
on  earth.  Indeed,  it  can  hardly  seem  strange  to  any,  that,  iind- 
ing  myself  the  last  survivor  of  those  who  had  eai'ly  editorial 
control  of  the  paper  which  yon  are  now  conducting,  I  would 
rather  sit  in  silence  for  a  time,  recalling  the  past  and  e.vpecting 
the  future,  instead  of  writing  of  either  of  those  with  whom  my 
associations  were  (mce  so  close,  who  have  passed  before  me  into 


LEOXAWO    M.VrOX.  lOf) 

the  land  of  the  '*  Kiiiu'  in  Hi-^  l)t'aiitv.'"  Yet,  you  have  a  right 
to  ask  tVom  nie  some  iniinediate,  if  iiiadecjuate  words  ah(nit 
liiiii.  and  my  (»nly  regret  is  that  I  cannot  hiy  a  more  fitting 
wn-ath  on  tiie  eoffin  wliich  so  soon  will  contain  all  that  was 
earthlv  and  moi'tal  in  him.  One  cannot  help  hut  wish,  for  the 
moment,  that  he  had  a  pen  as  raj)id.  vivid,  as  graceful  in  touch, 
as  melodions  in  mo\  ement,  as  that  which  has  dr<)j)|)ed  fi'oni  the 
stilled  hand. 

My  special  personal  ac(|naintance  with  Dr.  Uacon  hegan  with 
my  installati<»n  in  Ih-ooklyn  in  1S4(».  lie  kindly  consented,  at 
my  invitation,  to  i)reach  the  sermon  on  that  occasion,  to  me 
so  eventful,  though  at  some  personal  inconvenience ;  and  his 
Christian  interest  in  the  church  and  in  myself,  drew  me  at  once 
and  strongly  toward  him.  It  was  not,  however,  till  two  years 
afterward,  that  I  hecame  associated  with  him  in  the  editor's 
room  of  TJie  Independent j  and  in  the  interval  I  had  seen  him 
hut  hrieliy,  and  not  often,  I  rememher  still  the  shade  of 
timidity  witli  which  I  entered  on  this  more  intimate  connec- 
tion with  him,  in  view  of  his  impressive  and  versatile  powers, 
his  large  reflection  and  ohservation  of  men,  his  keen  and  some- 
times caustic  wit,  his  peculiar  decisiveness  of  conviction  and 
character ;  hut  a  brief  experience  of  his  thorough  faithfulness 
and  kindness  of  spirit,  of  the  readiness  with  which  he  received 
suggestions  from  those  who  hesitated  to  accept  his  opinions,  of 
his  almost  deferential  courtesy  toward  his  younger  associates, 
sufficed  to  put  me  wholly  at  my  ease  in  the  new  and  closer  rela- 
tions to  him ;  and  there  was  never  afterward  a  moment,  while 
those  editorial  relations  continued,  in  which  I  did  not  know 
that  he  would  judge  the  work  of  his  colleagues  more  leniently 
than  his  own,  and  that  his  words  of  affectionate  recognition 
of  whatever  they  did,  that  seemed  to  him  effectively  to  aid 
the  great  cause  of  goodness  and  trutli,  would  he  hearty  and 
prompt. 

His  mind  was  not  only  fertile  in  suggestions;  it  was  cer- 
tainly the  (piickest  mind,  in  the  grasp  and  measurement  of 
any  thought  expressed  hv  anothei',  which  I  liave  met.  Before, 
indeed,  this  was  fully  uttered,  he  had  often  seized  and  adjudged 
it.  If  he  accepted  it,  as  he  oftentimes  did,  he  put  it  into  a 
'^'orm  of   words   more  definite,  nervous,  and  energetic  than  it 


196  LEONARD    BACON. 

first  had  had.  If  lie  rejected  or  dissented  from  it,  his  answer 
was  as  instant,  yet  often  as  comj^lete  and  snbtly  exact,  as  if 
he  had  been  considering  cliiefly  that  sjjecial  proposition  for  an 
hour  beforehand.  Yet  whether  it  was  assent  or  dissent  which 
he  uttered,  his  mind,  when  at  leisui'e,  simply  took  that  as  a 
starting-point,  and  swept  along  various  and  diversified  tracks, 
running  backward,  outward,  forward,  in  the  swdft  and  exhilarat- 
ing processes  of  his  thought,  till  both  he  and  his  hearer  had  to 
come  back  at  last  with  a  hearty  laugh  to  the  now  imperceptibly 
distant  point  from  which  together  they  had  started. 

In  this  respect  he  presented  a  singular  and  picturesque  con- 
trast to  Dr.  Leavitt — "  Brother  Leavitt,"  as  he  always  affection- 
ately called  him,  with  whom  his  relations  were  of  absolute 
mutual  cordiality  and  respect.  Dr.  Leavitt's  mind  moved 
steadily  and  strongly  along  well-defined  and  very  important 
paths  of  thought,  like  a  powerful  piece  of  artillery,  or,  better, 
like  a  richlj^-loaded  and  stately  treasure-wagon,  heaped  with 
assorted  knowledges,  matured  judgments,  the  gathered  products 
of  study,  observation  and  careful  reflection.  Dr.  Bacon's 
mind,  in  the  swift  interchanges  of  editorial  conference,  moved 
around  the  other  like  a  brilliant  and  dashing  troop  of  cavalry, 
taking  from  it,  adding  to  it,  always  pursuing  the  same  general 
course,  but  careering  away  in  gallant  and  graceful  curves  out 
to  the  horizon,  though  never  too  remote  for  prompt  assistance, 
for  needed  direction,  for  animating  impulse,  or  for  splendid 
defense.  I  know  that  Dr.  Thompson  felt,  as  I  did,  that  hardly 
any  mental  stir  or  moral  stimulation  could  be  keener  or  more 
delightful  than  that  which  came  to  us  in  those  Beekman-Street 
rooms,  when  some  large  topic  had  to  be  considered,  and  the 
course  of  the  paper  concerning  it  to  be  settled.  I  was  the 
youngest  in  the  group,  and  the  least  important ;  but  I  went 
home  often  feeling  as  if  electric  currents  had  secretly  mingled 
with  my  l)lood. 

In  the  directions  in  which,  for  our  i)urpose8,  we  then  espe- 
cially needed  knowledge.  Dr.  Bacon's  resources  were  of  a  value 
(luite  inexpressible.  I  do  not  think  that  he  impressed  me  as 
one  widely  and  sympathetically  familiar  with  the  greater  phil- 
osophical writers,  though  his  mind  was  always  keenly  alert  for 
metaphysical    or    for  ethical    discussion;    nor  did    I,   perhaps, 


LKoXARD    HACOX.  11>T 

uiuliTstaiHl  ;it  tliat  tiinc,  as  well  as  afrei'ward,  how  wide  a 
readei"  he  had  been,  as,  indeed,  he  always  coiitinued  to  he,  in 
tlie  best  En<i'lisli  literature,  oi'  in  the  di^partiiients  of  classical 
and  historical  study  ;  hut  his  knowledge  of  men,  and  of  the 
movements  of  opinii^n,  in  his  own  region  not  only,  but  all  over 
tlie  country  ;  his  knowledge  of  the  history  of  the  New  Eng- 
land churches  and  of  the  theological  changes  among  them  ; 
his  knowledge  of  missions,  at  home  and  abroad,  and  of  the 
great  evangelical  societies  for  the  promotion  of  (Christian  in- 
terests, many  of  which  he  had  helped  to  found  or  early  dij-ect ; 
his  knowledge  of  other  denominations  of  (christians,  their  his- 
tory and  spirit,  nnd  his  general  clear  insight  into  their  excel- 
lences and  their  defects;  his  remarkable  knowledge  of  the  life 
of  historical  families  in  Xew  England,  as  well  as  of  the  polit- 
ical development  of  the  country,  of  the  men  who  had  been 
leaders  in  it,  of  the  measures  with  which  they  had  been  identi- 
hed,  and  esj)ecially  of  the  relations  which  they  or  their  several 
policies  had  sustained  to  the  great  anti-slavery  movement  in 
the  Nation — all  these  were  a  constant  source  of  surprise,  and  a 
constant  incentive  to  faithful  work,  as  well  as  an  unfailing 
magazine  of  fresh  sup])lies  of  wealth  and  strength  to  the  col- 
umns of  the  paper.  When  stirred  by  discussion,  he  poured 
them  forth  with  prodigal  liberality ;  and  if  a  phonographer 
could  have  caught  his  talk,  while  he  himself  knew  nothing  of 
it,  the  record  would  have  been  often  more  opulent,  not  unfre- 
quently  more  eloquent,  than  anything  which  he  afterward 
wrote,  or  than  any  of  his  elaborate  addresses.  His  mind 
seemed  simpl}'  full  of  such  knowledges ;  and  they  broke  from 
it,  on  fit  occasion,  in  shining  and  enriching  abundance. 

As  a  wa'iter,  for  the  effective  impression  of  his  thought,  Dr. 
Bacon  at  his  best  seemed  to  me  then,  has  seemed  to  me' ever 
since,  of  a  nearly  unsurpassed  excellence.  The  easy,  elegant, 
rapid,  and  powerful  movement  of  his  mind  appeared  to  force 
words  without  an  effort  to  do  his  l)idding,  till  they  dropped 
into  sentences  terse,  clear-cut,  and  epigrammatic,  or  flowing  in 
melodious  beauty,  as  if  it  had  been  spontaneously  done,  with- 
out particular  forethought  or  care.  He  wrote  best,  I  alwa«ys 
thought,  under  strong  pressure ;  his  sermons  being  rarely  as 
striking  as  his   ai-ticles,  though  with  passages  often  of  gi-eat 


198  LEONARD    BACON. 

power ;  his  best  articles  being  often  produced  at  a  heat.  Wliat 
disturbed  or  manacled  others  only  stinmlated  him,  and  his 
keenest  and  nujst  pungent  discussions  of  subjects  were  some- 
times produced  while  various  voices  were  speaking  in  the  room, 
and  the  printer's  devil  was  waiting  impatient  for  his  copy. 
His  self-poise  seemed  never  impaired  by  such  outward  inci- 
dents, and  the  sheets  would  go  to  the  boy's  hand,  one  after  an- 
other, with  hardly  an  erasure  or  change  from  first  to  last.  Yet, 
when  the  sentences,  so  rapidly,  easily,  smoothly  written,  came 
to  be  read,  in  the  next  day's  cohnnns,  they  were  often  rich 
with  allusion,  brilliant  with  wit,  ringing  and  I'hythmic  in  their 
cadence,  as  if  they  had  been  laboriously  prepared  in  the  still 
air  of  delightful  studies.  Without  effort  for  ornament,  his 
style  seemed  then  simply  instinct  with  beauty,  and  with  a 
native  supple  energy.  The  eagerness  of  his  thought  gave  pre- 
cision and  impulse  to  his  utterance  of  it.  His  perfect  mastery 
of  a  racy  and  noble  vocabulary  made  words  trip  to  him  as 
nimble  servitors.  His  intentness  on  the  end  which  he  meant 
to  accomplish  molded  his  paragraphs  into  a  vigorous  grace  of 
proportion,  almost  like  that  of  the  athlete's  limbs  ;  while  the 
description  which  Fisher  Ames  is  said  t<j  have  given  of  Hamil- 
ton's wit  to  the  friend  who  told  him  of  the  death  of  the  states- 
man might,  almost  without  exaggeration,  have  been  often 
applied  to  the  best  writing  of  Dr.  Bacon  :  "  His  wit  vvas  as 
sharp  as  yonder  thistle-blade,  and  [after  a  pause]  as  delicate  as 
its  down."  I  recall  many  passages  of  his  writing,  editorial 
and  other,  which  seem  to  me  as  well  deserving  to  be  studied 
now,  as  fine  examples  of  an  admirable  style,  as  any  of  Addison 
or  of  Macaulay. 

Of  Dr.  Bacon's  personal  cpialities,  moral  and  spii-itual,  others 
must*  write  who  can  do  it  with  an  ampler  leisure  than  mine, 
perhaps  witliout  that  throl)  in  the  pulse  which  comes  to  me 
still  when  I  think  of  him  as  gone.  It  goes  without  saying,  to 
all  who  knew  him,  that  he  had  as  clear  and  firm  a  faith  as  any 
man  has  ever  had  in  what  is  called  the  "  evangelical"  rendering 
of  New  Testament  doctrine,  and  in  the  Lord  whom  that  pre- 
sents to  the  love  and  trust,  the  adoration  and  obedience,  of 
human  hearts.  One  figure  was  equally  dominant  to  him  in 
(lospels  and  in  K])istles  ;  one,  in  all  the  history  of  the  church; 


LKOXAHD    BACON.  100 

one,  in  tlie  present  (•<»rM])Heate(l  and  clianoeful  iiutvenients  of 
society,  the  collisions  of  ideas,  the  inrush  of  new  instruments 
for  the  use  of  mankind,  the  contentions  in  ( /hristendom,  or  the 
im])acts  of  its  force  on  harharian  trihes.  It  was  the  figure  of 
Tlim  whose  lowly  hirth  yesterday  recaUed,  whose  miracles 
the  discijiles  delighted  to  record,  whom  John  exalted  amid  the 
Eternities  in  his  majestic  and  tender  proem,  whom  Paul  l)eheld 
in  the  sudden  hrightnoss,  and  from  whom  came  the  snhsequent 
incessant- and  sublime  inspirations  of  liis  kingly  life — the  figure 
of  llini  whom  Pilate  crncitied,  but  on  whose  head  the  exile  of 
Patmos  saw  afterward  many  crowns  !  Tn  the  appi-ehension  of 
the  personal  Christ,  l>rother,  Teacher,  lledeemei',  King,  man- 
ifesting (tocI,  making  atonement,  and  at  last  to  conquer  the 
world.  Dr.  P)acoirs  inmost  s])iritual  exjjerience  had  root  and 
life.  Ilis  best  discourses  were  on  this  theme;  his  conversation 
took  always  a  tenderer  and  a  statelier  tone  when  he  approached 
it;  and  the  sweet  and  solemn  sublimity  of  his  prayers  caught 
its  mighty  and  delicate  harmony  from  his  unfailing  adoration 
of  God  revealed  in  his  Son.  The  law  of  his  spirit  and  the  life 
of  his  tliought  was  in  this  sovereign  conception  of  the  Lord. 
He  drew^  to  men,  everywhere,  who  showed  in  their  minds  the 
counterpart  of  it.  The  early  life  of  the  New  England  churches 
was  precious  to  his  memory,  the  present  forms  of  administra- 
tion in  the  churches  which  have  followed  them  were  dear  to 
his  heart,  because,  apart  from  a  living  Christ,  central  and  su- 
j)reme,  there  could  have  been  no  glory  in  the  past,  there  could 
be  now  no  power,  progress,  or  even  coherence  in  such  societies. 
With  an  emphasis  than  which  that  of  the  apostle  was  hardly 
profounder,  he  could  say  anywhere  :  "  I  am  not  ashamed  of 
the  Gospel  of  Christ  ;  for  it  is  the  power  of  God,  unto  salva- 
tion, to  every  one  that  believeth." 

Out  of  this  came  his  life-long  interest  in  the  missionary 
work,  in  his  own  land  and  in  others ;  and  out  of  this  his  con- 
stant effort  to  get  Christianity  practically  realized,  so  far  as  liis 
intiuence  might  extend,  in  the  habits  and  institutions  of  society 
around  him.  Ilis  interest  in  temperance,  in  anti-slavery,  in  the 
l)est  methods  of  either  the  lower  or  the  higher  education,  in  social 
progress,  and  in  even  ])olitical  reform,  had  always  its  source  in 
his  wish  to  make  society  itself  a  temple  of  the  Lord,  illumined 


200  •  LEONARD    BACON. 

by  his  presence,  as  well  as  erected  and  molded  for  his  praise. 
It  was  not  at  all  because  he  had  taken  philosophical  ethics  at  a 
j)articiilar  vivid  angle,  and  had  seen'  the  necessary  collision  of 
that  with  social  customs  or  traditional  politics,  that  he  was  a 
reformer  when  it  cost  much  to  l)e  such ;  but  it  was  because  he 
could  not  be  satisfied — his  conscience  and  heart  forbade  him 
to  be  satislied — till  the  law  of  Christ  was  regnant  among  men, 
and  civilization  had  become  "  only  a  secular  name  for  Chris- 
tianity." He  was  in  this  essentially  akin  with  the  English 
reformers ;  and  with  those  who  faced  the  w^inds  and  the  wil- 
derness on  our  stormy  shores,  that  here  they  might  found  a 
church  with  no  lordship  save  that  of  God's  Son,  and  a  state 
interpenetrated  in  all  its  parts  by  his  benign  authority  and  rule. 
He  was  like  them  in  their  aim,  though  by  no  means  wholly 
so  in  their  methods ;  and  he  had,  like  them,  the  courage  of  his 
convictions,  and  was  never  afraid  of  what  man  could  do  to  him. 
The  trancpiillity  of  his  courage  was  not  merely  tested  among 
the  Koords,  in  1851,  when  his  life  hung  by  a  tln-ead,  and  when 
his  tender  and  lofty  prayer  ascended  for  his  captors,  as  well  as 
for  himself  and  his  companions.  It  met,  not  unfrequently, 
sharp  tests  at  home.  There  were  times  in  the  early  history  of 
The  Independent  when  the  intensity  of  feeling  against  it,  in 
important  and  prominent  circles,  was  like  the  very  blast  of  a 
furnace  ;  when  men  who  took  it,  who  even  casually  read  it, 
were  regarded  as  hopeless  and  intractable  radicals  ;  and  when 
to  be  its  senior  editor  was  to  be  a  target,  in  the  press  and  on  the 
platform,  for  many  missiles  angrily  hurled.  I  have  no  doubt 
that  nature  was  very  largely  helpful  to  grace  in  the  quiet  com- 
posure with  which  T)r.  Bacon  bore  such  assaults.  He  knew  his 
resources,  and  expected  his  opportunity  ;  and  when  the  oppor- 
tunity came  there  was  no  donbt  whatever  in  his  mind  that  the 
"  whip  of  small  cords  "  was  still  a  useful  Christian  instrument, 
and  the  scourging  sarcasms  with  which  he  smote  and  stung  his 
assailants  had  often  a  most  salutary,  if  not  an  immediately 
soothing  effect.  But,  aside  altogether  from  his  personal  con- 
sciousness of  his  singular  powers  for  self-defense,  he  had  an 
assured  tranquillity  of  spirit  amid  all  commotions,  because  he 
was  working,  according  to  his  conception  of  things,  for  what 
was  agreeable  to  the  doctrine,  the  law,  and  the  spirit  of  the 


LKONAIU)    RArOX.  20 1 

Master  ;  and  lie  had  no  fear  that  God  Mould  go  down  in  any 
struggle,  or  that  the  fiercest  passions  of  men  could  countervail 
His  niighty  plans,  against  whom  the  heathen  have  raged  from 
the  outset,  and  the  peo])Ie  have  imagined  a  thousand  \ain 
things. 

He  meant  to  he  useful,  and  so  fai"  as  he  could,  to  serve  his 
generation,  hefoi'e  he,  like  the  fatliers.  should  •'fall  on  sleep,"' 
and  no  d(»uht  he  desired  and  proju'rly  vahied  ])ositions  of  emi- 
nence, which  might  serve  to  make  his  usefulness  wider;  hut  I 
never  saM"  the  least  desire  or  sensibility  in  him  to  popular  fame, 
the  least  care  whether  his  name  woidd  he  repeated  or  not  when 
he  himself  should  have  gone  hence.  If  the  Master  was  hon- 
ored, that  was  enough.  If  his  influence  might  live,  he  cared 
little  for  repntation.  If  his  own  conscience  approved  his  course, 
I  do  not  imagine  that  he  was  in  fhe  least  solicitons  whether  or 
how  long  the  hreath  of  men  should  continue  to  syllable  his 
name.  He  has  his  reward  in  an  influence  that  may  not  con- 
tinue apparent,  Init  that  can  hardly  cease  to  be  felt  while  the 
Christian  life  of  the  continent  is  unfolded. 

By  this  sincerity  and  genuineness  of  spirit,  by  the  constant 
impulse  to  l)e  abreast  with  the  times,  as  well  as  by  his  reverent 
piety  and  his  unfailing  ('hristian  faith,  he  kept,  to  even  a  mar- 
velous degree,  the  undecaying  youth  of  his  spirit,  and  was  as 
fresh  in  his  enthusiasm,  as  vital  and  eager  in  his  interest  in 
subjects,  as  keenly  observant  of  the  tendencies  of  thought,  as 
tender  and  strong  in  personal  affections,  at  eighty  years  of  age, 
as  he  had  been  at  flfty  or  at  thirty ;  yet  he  felt  all  the  time  the 
nearer  approach  of  the  great  Immortality,  and  not  unfrequently 
made  reference  to  it.  The  last  sermon  which  he  preached  in 
my  pulpit,  now  some  years  since,  was  on  th€  text,  "  For  now  is 
our  salvation  nearer  than  when  we  believed."  Those  who  have 
been  more  familiar  than  I,  in  later  years,  ^\^th  his  public  servi- 
ces of  instruction  and  prayer,  have  told  me  that  more  than  ever 
before  have  his  thoughts  been  full  of  the  pathos  of  dependence, 
and  the  sweetness  of  hope ;  that  more  tender  than  e\'er  have 
been  his  ministrations  to  the  sick,  the  dying,  and  the  bereaved ; 
that  more  than  ever,  without  hindrance  or  weight,  lias  his  spirit 
soared  upward  in  that  office  (jf  prayer,  in  which  the  lofty 
rhythm  of  his  words,  caught  largely  from  the  Scriptures,  has 


^02  LEONARD    EACON. 

always  seemed  the  only  appropriate  and  adequate  vehicle  for 
his  reverential  ascriptions  <jf  praise,  for  his  heart-searching  con- 
fessions of  sin,  his  aspirations  for  holiness,  and  his  reverent 
thanksgiving.  He  grew  saintlier  as  he  grew  older.  Touching 
the  past  still,  in  experience  and  memory,  he  touched  the  future 
with  more  confident  hope.  A  few  weeks  since,  as  I  left  the 
study  in  which  I  had  found  him  busily  at  work,  though  even 
then  the  terrible  pain  had  repeatedly  smitten  him  with  its  sure 
premonition  of  coining  death,  his  last  words  were,  as  he  pressed 
my  hand  witli  unusual  strength,  and  looked  downward  with 
moistened  eyes  :  "  (lod  bless  you,  my  dear  brother,  ALWAYS  !" 
]  could  not  feel  then  that  I  was  parting  from  him,  after  the  inti- 
macy of  a  whole  generation,  for  the  last  time.  I  thought  again 
to  hear  the  talk  which  had  so  often  been  a  delight,  and  to 
touch  the  hand  so  often  laid  on  the  levers  of  influence,  which 
had  borne  so  easily  nmltiplied  burdens.  Thank  God  for  the 
knowledge  that,  when  a^-ain  I  see  his  face,  he  will  have  walked 
with  Paul  in  Paradise,  and  have  seen,  like  the  others  who  went 
before,  the  vision  of  the  face  of  Christ ! 

E^'er  faithfully  yours, 

R.  S.  Stores. 


[FROM   THE  JNDEPENDENT.\ 


LEONARD    BACON 


l.eoiiard  Bacon  is  dead  I  Wliat  lie  was  to  us  lie  was  to  a 
great  iiiiiltitude  of  his  fellow-citizens,  who  have  listened  for 
his  voice  and  Mdio  have  felt  that  order,  good  governnient,  vir- 
tue, religion,  and  the  best  interests  of  society  were  safer  and 
better  while  he  lived.  His  death,  last  Saturday  morning,  of  a 
form  of  heart  disease,  removed  from  the  world  a  life  whigh 
had  in  it  more  than  iifty  commanding  years,  and  ended,  at  last, 
within  a  few  weeks  of  the  eightieth  bii-thday,  with  as  many 
and  various  interests  as  ever  reposing  in  him.  His  vital  forces 
appeared  to  be  unsapped.  He  walked  erect,  with  the  elastic, 
lirmly-planted  step  which  distinguished  him  through  life. 

"  His  youth  'gainst  time  and  age  had  ever  spurned  " 

with  such  prosperous  art  that  eighty  years  seemed  only  to  have 
gathered  into  him  "  some  smack  of  age  ....  some  relish  of 
the  saltness  of  time."  ExcejDt  for  intiniations  which  had  gone 
abroad  that  there  were  grounds  for  apprehending  a  disorder 
which  respects  neither  youth  nor  age,  it  would  have  occurred 
to  none  of  his  neighbors  that  they  might  not  continue  to 
reckon  among  the  world's  workers  this  wonderful  octogenarian, 
who  was  now  displaying  in  old  age  the  qualities  of  youth,  as  in 
youth  he  had  displayed  the  mature  qualities  of  age. 

Leonard  Bacon  was  born  February  19,  18r)2,  at  Detroit,  and, 
entering  Yale  at  the  age  of  fourteen  years,  was  graduated  in 


204  LEONARD    BACON. 

the  class  of  1820,  whose  valedictorian  was  Theodore  T).  Wool- 
sey,  tlie  revered  ex-President  of  Yale,  with  whom  he  has 
maintained  a  life-long  friendship.  He  stndied  for  the  Chris- 
tian ministry  at  Andover,  where  he  gave  indications  of  those 
commanding  powers  which  were  destined  to  make  him  a  ruler 
among  men.  One  of  his  fellow-stndents  and  friends  has  pre- 
served a  characteristic  anecdote,  which  is  too  good  to  be  lost, 
that  the  young  student,  hy  his  bold,  aggressive  methods  in 
public  discussion,  raised  as  much  of  a  storm  as  there  is  room 
for  in  a  well-regulated  theological  seminary,  and  was  visited  by 
a  committee,  led  l)v  a  youth  in  wlK)se  composition  piety  and 
dullness  were  evenly  mixed.  ''  Brother  Bacon,"  he  ran  on, 
"  for  your  own  sake  give  uji  this  fault.  It  is  the  one  thing, 
Brother  Bacon,  between  you  and  greatness.  Give  it  up. 
Brother  Bacon,  and  you  are  sure  to  be  a  much  greater  man." 
The  young  Bacon,  who,  with  all  his  polemic  force,  had  in  him 
a  good  infusion  of  the  meekness  which  helped  Moses  to  rule, 
bore  all  patiently,  and,  finally,  when  silence  ceased  to  be 
golden,  dismissed  the  meeting  with  the  reply  :  "  But,  Brother, 
I  am  already  a  greater  man  than  I  know  what  to  do  with." 

,In  1825  he  was  ordained  to  the  Christian  ministry,  and  set 
over  the  Center  Church,  at  Xew  Haven,  whose  pulpit  had 
been  raised  to  a  great  height  of  influence  by  the  eminent 
divines  who  had  held  it,  the  last  among  whom  had  been  the 
late  INathaniel  W.  Taylor,  the  distinguished  founder  of  the 
theology  which  is  known  sometimes  by  his  name  and  some- 
times as  that  of  New  Haven. 

His  congregations  would  hardly  claim  that  at  any  period  of 
his  ministry  he  was  a  great  preacher,  though  they  can  never 
forget  that  in  occasional  sermons  he  displayed  many  of  the 
highest  and  best  gifts  of  the  preacher.  Ordinarily,  his  style 
was  too  literary  to  be  impassioned ;  but,  when  the  mood  was 
on  him  and  the  occasion  suited,  it  was  easy  for  him  to  throw 
the  orator's  spell  over  the  congregation  and  by  turns  awe, 
delight,  or  convince  them.  His  voice,  which  was  not  unerr- 
ingly trained  to  fall  into  sympathetic  tones,  was  one  of  great 
native  capacity  and  sweetness,  which,  in  the  ha])])y  use  of  it, 
served  to  express  the  shades  and  points  of  his  pungent  wit,  or 
delicate  humor.      It   flowed  out  then  in  rhythmic  cadences, 


LKONARl)    BACON.  '2(»5 

which  carried  throiigli  tlie  audience  a  delio;]itl"iil  impression  (»f 
easy  mastery  or,  like  a  well-drawn  cord,  threw  his  arrows  far 
and  to  the  mark.  His  manner  in  the  pulpit  was  that  kind  of 
di<i;nified  propriety  which  is  never  dull  :iii<l  sometimes  rises  to 
the  hiifhest  inspiration. 

Dr.  I>ae<ni  was  familiar  with  theology,  but  was  not  in  the 
strict  meaning  of  the  word  a  theologian,  though  for  several 
years  previous  to  the  appointment  of  Dr.  Harris  he  taught  the 
classes  in  the  Yale  Seminary  the  divine  science.  Ilis  general 
position  was  that  of  the  New  Haven  School,  l)nt  he  held  it 
liberally.  On  this  ])oint  we  may  remind  our  readers  that  Dr. 
Bacon  did  not  sympathize  with  the  prosecution  of  the  late  Dr. 
Buslmell,  but  was  his  fast  friend  to  the  end,  and  that  whatever 
conservatism  there  was  in  him  was  of  that  kind  that  held  the 
root  in  the  ground  to  grow,  and  not  of  the  kind  which  is  fatal 
to  progress,  nor  to  the  vitality  and  the  fecundity  of  thought. 

The  church  ovei*  which  he  was  settled  was  the  historic 
chui-ch  of  John  Davenport,  whose  two  hundredth  anniversary 
was  approaching.  This  may  have  stimulated  his  historic  tastes, 
which  were  always  strong,  and  led  him  into  the  researches 
which  culminated  first  in  a  series  of  discourses,  and  then  in 
their  publication  under  the  title  of  "  Bacon's  Historical  Dis- 
courses." This  volume  fixed  his  reputation  as  a  master  of 
literary  style  and  as  an  historical  scholar ;  a  reputation  which, 
as  fai"  as  the  annals  of  the  Congregational  churches  and  of  the 
State  of  Connecticut  go,  he  shared  only  with  Dr.  Dexter  and 
J.  Hammond  Trumbull. 

He  was  the  author  of  several  other  works,  of  which  we  only 
mention  here  "  The  Genesis  of  the  !N^ew  England  Churches." 
He  wrote  often  and  effectively  for  the  Christian  SjpectatoT  and 
afterward  for  the  New  Englander  on  a  wide  variety  of  topics. 
More  brilliant  replies  can  hardly  be  found  in  controversial 
literature  than  the  defense  he  printed  last  summer  in  the  New 
Englander  of  the  right  of  the  Congregational  clergy  of  Con- 
necticut to  the  place  they  have  in  the  corporation  of  Yale 
College,  a  production  wdiich  is  only  to  be  matched  by  his  own 
"  Dryasdust  View"  of  the  matter,  published  some  years  ago  in 
the  same  quarterly  (as  it  was  then),  to  ^^ndicate  tlie  clerical 
management  of  the  affairs  of  flie  college  against  an  attack 
made  <iii  it. 
If) 


iiOt)  LEONAEl)   BACOlsr. 

Of  Dr.  Bacon's  connection  with  Yale  we  ninst  speak  briefly. 
At  the  api3ointnient  of  Professor  Woolsey  to  be  president,  he 
resigned  his  place  in  the  cor])oration,  to  make  a  vacancy  for 
ex-President  Day.  Too  long  an  interval  was  allowed  to  elapse 
before  he  was  reappointed  to  his  old  position  for  the  best 
interests  of  all  parties  concerned.  lie  was,  however,  reap- 
pointed and  has  been  recognized  to  the  present  time  as  one  of 
the  most  capable  and  efficient  members  of  the  board.  We  be- 
lieve it  was  in  1866  that  he  was  relieved  of  all  responsil)ility 
for  active  dnty  as  Pastor  of  the  Center  Church,  and  called  to 
the  chair  of  theology  in  tlie  Yale  Theological  Seminary,  which 
he  filled  until  the  ajjpointment  of  Dr.  Harris,  in  1871.  Since 
that  ti^ne  he  has  continued  to  deliver  lectures  to  the  classes  on 
ecclesiastical  polity  and  American  church  history.  We  ought 
not  to  omit  in  this  connection  that  he  is  the  author  of  several 
hymns,  one  of  which,  at  least,  has  become  classical  for  those 
who  love  the  Puritans  : 

"Oh!  God,  beneath  thy  guiding  hand." 

Dr.  Bacon  was  early  recognized  as  a  Congregational  leader. 
What  he  achieved  in  this  view  of  his  career  is  a  part  of  the 
religious  history  of  the  country  and  requires  only  to  be  men- 
tioned here  in  this  review  of  his  full  and  varied  life.  It  may 
have  been  the  thought  of  his  own  cradle  in  Michigan  that  led 
him  to  throw  his  heart,  as  he  did,  into  the  West,  and  strive  to 
carry  thither  the  churches  of  the  "  ancient  faith  and  order  of 
IS^ew  England,"  as  he  delighted  to  call  them.  At  all  events, 
the  West  has  had  no  better  friend  anywhere  among  all  her 
sons,  by  adoption  or  by  birth,  than  Leonard  Bacon ;  none  who, 
from  first  to  last,  has  done  more  for  her  churches,  her  colleges, 
her  schools.  In  the  Home  Missionary  Society,  in  the  American 
Board  for  Foreign  Missions,  in  councils,  associations,  and  pub- 
lic meetings  of  all  kinds,  in  the  puljjit  and  on  the  platform,  l)y 
pen,  by  debate,  and  in  the  connnittee-room,  all  over  tlie  land, 
he  has  made  himself  felt,  working  in  right  manly  fashion  to 
build  uj)  the  churches  and  to  promote  the  faith. 

As  to  Dr.  Bacon's  anti-slavery  record,  there  was  no  time  in 
his  life  after  his  ordination  to  the  ministry  when  he  did  iu)t 
feel  for  the  sla\e  and  aijainst^laverv.      lie  took  an  instant  and 


LKONAKl)    MACON.  207 

aetive  interest  in  tlie  Aniistad  captixes,  and  tlie  contention  of 
wits  l>etweeii  liiniself  and  Ralph  Ino-ersoll  on  the  occasion  of 
the  fanions  ti-ial  is  still  remembered  at  New  Haven.  The 
etliical  (piestion  whicli  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  slavery  agita- 
tion was  settled  in  his  mind  from  the  llrst ;  but  he  was  not 
clear  as  to  the  policy  to  be  pursued.  Pie  went  to  hear  Mr. 
Garrison,  with  liow  nmcli  liope  of  finding  the  required  leader 
in  liim  we  do  not  know;  but,  if  he  did  not  go  with  an  open 
and  candid  mind,  it  was  the  first  and  last  time  in  his  life  he 
approached  a  great  question  in  that  blinded  way.  At  all  events, 
he  saw  neither  a  leader  nor  a  policy  in  Mr.  (larrison.  For 
years  he  gave  himself  to  the  colonization  scheme,  and  we  have 
within  these  few  days  seen  it  stated,  in  a  leading  and  responsi- 
ble print,  that  he  did  not  abandon  this  movement  until  about 
1850,  and  that  why  he  abandoned  it  he  never  explained;  a 
very  curious  assertion,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  The  Inde- 
pendent M^as  founded  in  1848,  with  Leonard  Bacon  as  the  lead- 
ing editor,  associated  with  Drs.  Thompson,  Storrs,  and  Leavitt, 
and  that  those  editors  said  in  their  address  to  the  jjublic  "  We 
take  our  stand  for  free  soil,"  and  kept  the  address  with  those 
words  and  more  to  the  same  eifect  in  it  standing  printed 
through  the  eleven  first  numbers.  Moreover,  Dr.  Bacon  had 
taken  this  ground  long  before,  had  been  attacked  and  maligned 
for  doing  so  and  charged  with  inconsistency.  He  avowed  the 
change  of  opinion  in  an  open,  manly  fashion,  which,  surely, 
cannot  have  passed  out  of  the  memory  of  men  so  soon,  declar- 
ing tliat  the  only  consistency  which  was  worth  the  name  was 
that  in  which  a  man  reserved  the  right  to  change  his  opinions 
when  required  by  the  evidence  or  the  discovery  of  truth  to 
do  so. 

As  long  ago  as  1827  an  article  in  the  Christian  Spectator^ 
from  the  pen  of  the  la|e  Joshua  Leavitt,  had  struck  a  S2)ark  in 
Dr.  Bacon's  mind  which  kindled  to  a  flame,  and  became  ulti- 
mately not  only  the  principle  he  adopted,  but  that  on  which 
emancipation  was  ultimately  effected. 

Dr.  Leavitt  contended  that  the  Constitution  was  not  the 
covenant  w'ith  evil  the  Garrisonians  held  it  to  be ;  but  that  it 
was  for  freedom,  and  that  wdierever  the  Constitution  was  the 
sole  source  of  political  institutions  it  planted  freedom.     It  was 


208  T.EONARD    BACON. 

his  helief  that  the  ring  of  free  States  drawn  arcmnd  the  others 
would  strangle  slavery.  That  was  the  Free  Soil  doctrine.  It 
was  also  the  view  of  the  matter  taken  by  the  disunion  leaders 
and  was  the  fate  which  they  opposed  with  secession. 

This  view  of  the  matter  was  carried  into  The  Independent^ 
and  advocated  there,  with  what  ability  and  with  what  command- 
ing influence,  the  whole  country  knows.  It  is  the  glory  of  The 
Independent  that  it  opened  fire  in  its  first  number  on  the  line 
of  battle  which,  sixteen  years  later,  was  crowned  with  success. 

In  1848  Dr.  Leonard  Bacon,  Dr.  Joseph  P.  Thompson  and 
Dr.  Richard  S.  Storrs  became  the  responsible  editors  of  The 
Independent.  The  considerations  which  led  to  the  founding  of 
this  journal  are  set  forth  l)y  them  in  an  address  to  the  public, 
the  like  of  which  was  never  penned  before,  and  certainly  has 
not  been  since.  The  Congregational  churches  were  on  the 
move  West.  Important  enterprises  were  in  progress  elsewhere. 
More  than  all,  there  were  certain  very  perturbative,  fecundating, 
organific,  and,  also,  as  the  event  proved,  re\'olutionary  thoughts 
in  the  minds  of  a  pretty  large  group  of  large  men,  which  had 
to  be  uttered.  The  three  responsible  editors  of  The  Inde- 
pendent undertook  to  utter  them.  "We  are  Congregational- 
ists,"  they  say,  in  their  address;  "but  we  do  not  undertake  to 
be  the  representatives  of  Congregationalism.  We  have  oui- 
own  opinions  on  questions  in  theology,  but  we  ai-e  not  the 
champions  of  any  man's  'scheme'  or  metaphysical  system,  or 
of  the  views  set  forth  from  any  chair  of  theology.  The  Inde- 
pendent^ then,  is  not  to  be  held  resj^onsible  for  any  opinion  but 
its  own.  The  doctors  .  .  .  may  agree  or  disagree,  as  they 
please.  We  are  responsible  for  none  of  them,  nor  is  any  one 
of  them  responsible  for  us." 

So,  too,  politically  "we  take  our  stand  io\ free  .yfyV,"  l)ut  will 
not  l)e  responsil)le  for  any  party  in  the  land.  We  have  our 
opinions,  they  said,  and  we  mean  to  utter  them. 

Nowhere  in  all  the  wide  field  of  his  fruitful  influence  will  he 
be  more  missed  than  in  The  Independent.  As  we  review  his 
crowded  life  and  think  of  his  eighty  years,  we  ask  ourselves 
what  manner  of  man  was  this  that  led  us  still  to  count  him 
among  the  active  soldiers  in  the  world's  great  warfare  and  to 
expect  so  much  more  fi'oiii  him  in  the  great  (';nn])aigii. 


LKONAHI)    HACOX.  20{) 

That  1k'  \vas  soint'timc's  l)ristlinii-  and  })Uiiiiaci(ms,  or  even 
wrong-headed,  that  <»n  some  rare  occasions  lie  lost  his  ])oise 
may  well  enouiih  he  ti-ne;  hut  his  heart  was  gentle  and  his 
character  was  impersonal.  The  spirit  of  yonth  and  the  love  of 
youth  were  in  him.  lie  was  richer  in  hum(»r  than  in  satire. 
A  good  story  coming  ainiounced  itself  witli  a  characteristic 
chuckle,  and  was  told  with  inimitable  manner  and  action.  Tlis 
mind  was  stored  with  anecdote,  and  it  is  doubtful  if  there  has 
been,  in  his  day  or  anywhere  in  the  wide  cii-clc  he  lived  in, 
such  a  master  of  the  monologue  in  all  hues  aiul  of  every  variety. 
I  lis  table-talk,  ce-uld  we  have  it,  would  live  long. 

As  a  diristian.  Dr.  I>acon  had  much  of  the  sim])licity  of  the 
Puritan  type.  Tie  was  warm  and  spiritual,  without  being  de- 
monstrative ;  but  he  had  no  antagonisms  that  untitted  him  to 
combine  with  any  worker  w'ho  had  good  jjower  of  any  kind  in 
him.  His  gift  in  prayer  was  of  the  highest  order,  and  he  knew 
well  how  to  read  the  hymn.  At  funerals  and  on  all  public 
occasions  no  man  could  be  relied  on  as  he  could.  In  the 
churches  he  was  the  bishop,  l)y  right  divine  the  TtoujiYjv  laxov, 
while  among  men  his  personal  and  connnanding  qualities 
marked  him  out  as  tit  to  wear  the  Homeric  title  avaz  av&pa)v. 

We  know  that  Dr.  Storrs's  eloquent  and  noble  tribute  to  the 
memory  of  Dr.  Bacon  in  these  colunms  will  l)e  read  with  deep 
interest. 


IFROM  THE  INDEPENDENT^ 


LEONARD    BACON. 


By  Professor  George  P.  Fisher,  D.D. 


New  Haven  is  not  the  same  place  witliout  Dr.  Bacon.  He 
has  been  the  Pastor  of  the  oklest  church  for  ahnost  threescore 
years.  To  all  who  in  this  period  have  lived  in  that  city,  to  all 
who  have  resorted  to  its  College  and  schools  his  person  and 
voice  are  familiar.  In  every  pnblic  movement  he  has  been  a 
recognized  leader.  Whenever  a  good  canse  needed  the  advo- 
cacv  of  a  powerful  pen  or  an  eloquent  voice,  all  eyes  turned  to 
him.  He  was  the  historiographer  of  the  town.  He  had 
explored  its  beginnings ;  he  knew  more  of  its  past  than  any 
other  living  man.  He  is  identified  with  New  Haven,  like  the 
permanent  features  of  the  landscape,  like  the  massive  twin 
rocks  that  stand  on  its  border,  the  elms  that  shade  its  streets, 
and  the  waters  of  the  adjacent  Sound. 

Yet  Dr.  Bacon  did  not  seem  old.  His  intellectual  ])owers 
were  not  reduced.  His  vivacity  flamed  to  the  last  as  bril- 
liantly as  of  yore.  He  had  lost  none  of  his  interest  in  the 
important  questions  of  the  hour.  He  had  never  stopped  on 
his  path  to  turn  his  face  backward,  and  to  turn  his  back  on 
the  future.  To  all  who  approached  him  his  enthusiastic,  hope- 
ful, courageous  spirit  was  an  inspiration  to  the  end.  Months 
ago  he  read  Robertson  Smith's  lectures  on  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, talked  of  them  with  animation,  evidently  feeling  that 
the  problems  wliicli  they  ])resented   must  be   freely   and   fairly 


LEOXAIJH    l{A("<>X.  211 

discussed.  TTe  left  <>ii  lii's  table  an  iintiiiislK'd  Essay  on  Ftali 
and  "  tlu'  Mormon  (^nestion "  in  its  })()liti('al  relations.  lie 
was  (,'in])liati('ally  a  man  of  liis  time  and  for  his  time.  lie 
wonld  have  fonnd  it  impossible  to  seelnde  himself  fi'om  the  stir 
and  contlict  of  the  jn-esent  to  forget  the  struggles  in  whicli  the 
eonntry  and  the  cliureh  are  now  engaged,  or  to  stand  as  an  idle 
s|)ectat(H',  musing  on  tlie  course  of  human  events.  Fie  felt  at 
home  on  the  public  arena,  where  matters  affecting  the  common 
weal  were  submitted  to  the  arbitrament  of  debate,  lie  has 
made  innumerable  speeches  in  public  meetings,  lie  has  been 
a  most  prolific  contributor  to  the  journals.  The  articles  which 
he  has  written  for  newspapers  and  reviews,  in  all  these  years, 
generally  with  reference  to  current  topics,  are  numberless. 

Yet,  it  need  not  be  said  that  Dr.  Bacon  was  a  man  of  the 
time  in  no  narrow  sense.  He  was  never  superficial.  He  was 
not  of  those  who  are  incapable  of  being  interested  in  anything 
which  is  not  of  to-day.  His  horizon  was  not  so  limited.  He 
loved  to  trace  the  present  back  to  its  roots  in  the  ])ast.  He 
had  not  only  the  tact  and  accuracy  of  a  historical  student ;  he 
had,  also,  the  historical  imagination  which  could  reproduce  by- 
gone times  in  a  glowing  picture.  His  volume  of  Discourses  on 
the  History  of  j^J^ew  Haven  is  a  contribution  to  knowledge 
which  has  stimulated  the  production  of  other  works  of  a  like 
character.  His  last  article  in  the  New  Englander  is  a  beautiful 
sketch  of  society  in  Connecticut  near  the  end  of  the  last  cen- 
tur}'.  There  was  in  him  such  a  never-failing  spring  of  mental 
vitality  that  whatever  he  read  inspired  him  with  thoughts  that 
carried  him  far  beyond  his  author.  His  understanding  was  so 
strong  and  so  keen  that  he  quickly  grasped  what  was  of  chief 
moment  in  a  l)ook  or  periodical.  His  intellect  was  not  at  all 
enfeel)led  by  his  habit  of  discursive  reading,  as  may  be  the  case 
with  inferior  men  ;  and,  with  all  his  sympathy  with  his  own 
generation,  he  was  not  in  the  least  a  radical  in  his  temperament. 
His  tone  of  feeling  was  conservative.  He  revered  the  virtues 
of  men  and  of  states  of  society  that  have  passed  away.  He 
had  nothing  of  an  iconoclast  in  his  natural  temper.  As  a 
reformer,  he  was  quite  as  anxious  to  build  up  as  to  pull  down. 
In  the  slavery  controversy  he  was  long  the  ally  of  the  great 
body  who   hoped  that  African   colonization   would    ]irove  an 


212  LEONABI)    BACOX. 

ffective  means  of  emancipation.  lie  cordiallv  detested  the 
disnnion  principles  and  the  tlieological  and  "woman's  rights" 
tenets  of  the  Garrison  School ;  but  when  he  saw  that  the  Slave 
Power  w-as  advancing,  and  tliat  sla\erv  was  defended  hy  the 
Southern  chnrcli  as  a  Cliristian  institution,  he  threw  lumself 
witli  fearless  ardor  into  the  propagation  of  anti-shivery  doctrine 
and  was  inflnential  in  hnilding  up  the  repnhHcan  party.  Mr. 
Lincoln  assured  him  (as  Di-.  Bacon  himself  informed  me)  tliat 
it  was  the  reading  of  liis  l)ook  of  Essays  on  Slavery  that  made 
him  an  Abolitionist. 

Dr.  Bacon's  rhetorical  talents  were  of  a  very  high  order ;  and 
yet  the  word  "rhetorical"  in  this  connection  may  be  mislead- 
ing. It  was  nature,  more  tlian  art  that  gave  him  the  remarka- 
ble power  to  which  I  refer.  To  be  sure,  without  wide  reading 
and  familiarity  with  good  literature  lie  could  not  have  l)ecome 
such  a  master  of  English  expression  ;  Init  with  him  language 
was  a  spontaneous  product  ;  it  was  vitalized  by  thought  and 
feeling.  He  had  no  need  to  go  in  (|uest  of  apt  phrases.  The 
fires  that  were  burning  within  shot  forth  light  and  heat  with- 
out any  artificial  blowing  of  the  l)ellows.  1  have  never  known 
his  superior  in  the  power  of  strictly  extemporaneous  thought. 
It  was  a  delight  to  him,  when  he  was  at  his  ease  with  friends 
whom  he  knew  well,  to  improvise,  if  I  may  use  the  w^ord,  on 
the  subjects  that  happened  to  come  up.  In  an  ecclesiastical 
assembly,  when  roused  by  a  topic  that  interested  him,  he  always 
manifested  this  extraordinary  power  of  "  thinking  on  his  feet." 
Sometimes,  especially  in  conversation,  a  suggestion  from  an- 
other that  struck  his  mind  he  would  take  up  and  unfold  and 
illustrate  with  his  own  peculiar  felicity  ;  not,  perhaps  l)ecause 
it  embodied  liis  own  matured  opinion,  ])ut  as  if  by  a  kind  of 
rhetorical  instinct,  prompting  him  to  present  the  case  as  it  ought 
to  be  presented.  There  were  occasions  when  Dr.  Bacon  was 
very  eloquent.  When  a  monument  was  placed  near  the  Center 
Church,  over  the  grave  of  Col.  Dixwell,  one  of  the  judges  of 
King  Charles  I.,  he  delivered  a  discourse  on  "  The  Opening  of 
an  Ancient  Grave  "  ;  and,  years  later,  from  a  platfoi-m  raised 
over  the  same  monument,  he  delivered  an  address  of  welcome 
to  Governor  Robinson,  of  Kansas.  In  the  last  instance,  notably, 
sympathy  with  the  liistoric  glory  of  Puritanism,  suggested  by 


LKON  A  i;i)    UACOX.  iM.') 

tlic  iislii's  of  tlu-  exiled  ju(li;v  (t\X'i'  wliicli  he  stood,  blended  witli 
a  hurniiiii-  indionatioii  at  tlie  inicpiiHes  i)ei'|)eti'ated  in  Kansas, 
and  cansed  liini  to  speak  with  an  ('lo<|uenee  wliicli  I  have  never 
lieard  s\irj)assed.  These  are  <»iil_v  two  instanees  amono-  many 
which  those  who  ha\e  lon<;'  known  Dr,  Bacon  \vill  easily  recall. 
In  his  own  pnlpit  it  is  hai-dly  requisite  to  observe  that  his  dis- 
conrses  were  nnifoi'ndy  s(»lid  and  instructive.  Xot  unfre- 
(|ueiitly  they  were  spirited  as  well ;  and  sometimes — in  partic- 
ular, on  commemorative  occasions — tliey  were  full  of  fire.  But 
he  told  me  once  that  it  was  harder  for  him  to  speak  without 
notes  in  his  own  pul})it  than  anywhere  else.  IFe  lacked  there 
the  stimulus  of  opposition.  The  topics,  although  they  took  a 
deep  hold  of  his  convictions,  might  be  not  more  apjjosite 
for  one  time  than  for  anotlier,  and  a  sense  of  the  propriety 
and  decorum  that  belong  to  the  house  of  worship,  nn'ngled 
with  that  respect  for  his  congregation  wliich  grew  u])  in  the 
early  years  of  his  ministry,  when  he  stood  in  the  ])]ace  of  Stuart 
and  Taylor,  tlirew  over  him  in  some  degree  an  insensible  con- 
straint. In  truth,  there  were  various  characteristics  of  Dr. 
Bacon  which  it  is  probable  that  many  of  his  parishioners  knew 
little  of  01',  at  any  rate,  never  adequately  appreciated.  I  refer 
to  the  many  who  saw  little  of  him,  except  in  tlie  pulpit.  His 
attractiveness  as  a  speaker  in  places  w^here  he  was  at  liberty  to 
])our  out  his  thoughts  at  will,  and  illuminate  them  with  Hashes 
of  wit,  they  miglit  not  fully  understand.  The  charm  of  his 
conversation  w^hen  he  was  with  congenial  minds,  the  stream 
of  wisdom  and  wit,  the  stores  of  apposite  anecdote  always  at 
his  command,  the  humorous  illustrations  from  favorite  authors, 
as  Scott  or  Dickens,  which  came  up  unbidden,  as  the  talk  pur- 
sued its  winding  \vay — to  all  this  many  Mdio  only  knew  him.  as 
a  preacher  were  strangers.  Nevertheless  he  was  remarkably 
open  and  frank.  He  was  never  otherwise  than  serious  and 
earnest.  Had  any  one  who  knew  him  but  imperfectly,  seen 
him  in  his  most  unguarded  hours,  he  would  have  observed 
nothing  to  detract  in  the  least  from  the  profound  respect  for 
his  character  which  his  pulpit  addresses,  his  solemn  and  rever- 
ent prayers,  and  the  sympathetic  and  melodious  tones  in  which 
he  read  the  hymns  of  the  church  were  adapted  to  inspire. 
Dr.  Bacon  is  distinguished  as  a  polemical  writer  and  speaker. 


214  LEONARD   BACON. 

He  inherited  in  a  lar«;e  measure  the  old  Puritan  zeal  for  making 
things  straight  in  this  crooked  world,  for  compelling  magis- 
trates to  rule  justly,  and  for  beating  down  the  upholders  of 
demoralizing  institutions  and  customs.  He  was  naturally  fond 
of  controversy  in  the  sense  that  his  mental  faculties  were 
(juickened  by  debate,  and  he  experienced  all  the  delight — the 
gatcdia  certaminis — which  belongs  to  a  combatant  who  has  no 
occasion  to  distrust  his  powers  ;  but  Dr.  Bacon  embarked  in 
no  warfare  which  he  did  not  feel  to  be  just.  The  severity  of 
his  sarcasm  was  oMang  to  the  keenness  of  his  perception.  The 
blade  which  nature  fashioned  for  him  had  a  sharp  edge.  But 
he  was  a  magnanimous  disputant.  lie  was  above  petty  tricks. 
He  disdained  sophistry.  He  brought  away  from  his  battles  no 
feelinff  of  rancor  toward  his  adversaries.  He  cherished  no 
grudges.  After  a  tilt  was  over,  it  was  no  fault  of  his  if  he  did 
not  shake  hands  with  his  opponent.  He  had  a  large-minded, 
catholic  spirit  toward  all  bodies  of  Christian  people.  While 
clinging  with  au  unfaltering  faith  to  the  essential  facts  and 
principles  of  the  gospel,  he  believed  in  free  inquiry  and  dis- 
cussion, despised  pettiness  and  narrowness  in  religon,  and  was 
able  to  recognize  the  same  essential  truth  under  diverse  forms 
of  statement.  One  who  saM'  Dr.  Bacon  in  an  assembly  where 
aij  excited  del)ate  was  in  progress,  wearing  the  stern  look  of  a 
warrior,  with  his  sword-arm  uplifted  and  launching  his  invec- 
tives against  an  obnoxious  measure,  might  imagine  that  austerity 
and  indignation  were  his  prevailing  traits.  In  reality,  he  was 
one  of  the  kindest  and  most  genial  of  men.  His  indignation 
was  fervid,  but  there  was  a  deeper  well  of  generous  and  benev- 
olent feeling  beneath  it.  "  How  Dr.  Bacon  has  mellowed  in 
the  last  twenty  years!"  is  a  remark  occasionally  heard.  It 
would  certainly  be  a  reproach  to  a  good  man  if  the  change 
denoted  by  this  phraseology  did  not  occur  with  the  advance  of 
age.  No  doubt  there  was  an  increasing  carefulness  to  avoid 
expressions  that  might  wound  sensitive  minds.  After  all,  how- 
ever, this  apparent  growth  of  tenderness  aiul  forbearance  was, 
in  the  main,  a  manifestation  of  qualities  of  heart  which  had 
ever  belonged  to  him.  Old  age  does  not  soften  the  naturally 
unfeeling.  Bipe  and  mellow  fruit  s])rings  only  from  good  seed. 
The   most   cons])icuous   moral   ti'iiit  of   Dr.   l>acon  Wiis  manli- 


LEOXARD    RACON,  215 

Tiess.  ^lanliiR'ss  ('(mstitiitcMl  his  iileal  of  clianictt'r.  It  was 
(^liristiaii  inaiiliiu'ss.  Uecause  Cliristiaiiity  in  liis  view  was  essen- 
tial to  the  perfeeti<»n  of  manhood.  A  devout  man,  he  was 
utterly  free  from  all  the  sentimentalities  of  piet\ .  To  eiitlni- 
siasts  lie  mio;]it  seem  too  re.«erved,  perliaps  fri^-id,  in  liis 
reliii:ions  manifestations.  N(»t  so  did  he  seem  to  tlie  tlionsands 
of  invalids  at  whose  l)edsi(le  he  liad  oft'eivd  up  prayer  to  God, 
or  to  the  multitude  of  households  wliieli  he  entered  to  bury 
their  dead.  15ut  he  helieved  tliat  Christianity  is  for  daily  use. 
It  is  to  make  men  uprii>;ht,  faithful,  fearless  in  the  performanee 
of  duty.  Jt  is  not  only  for  the  spiritual  health  and  peace  of 
the  individual  ;  it  is  for  the  remolding  of  society.  It  is  the 
part  of  a  Christian  to  take  the  aggressive  and  carry  the  Gospel 
oyer  the  earth.  In  the  distant  continents  of  Asia,  in  far-off 
islands  of  the  sea,  wherever  an  American  missionary  is  at  work 
in  planting  Christiaiuty,  the  name  of  Dr.  Bacon  is  familiar. 
In  the  only  extended  jonrney  which  he  ever  took  he  visited 
our  missions  in  the  East.  He  had  the  New  England  feeling 
that  religion  and  education  are  inseparable.  Whatever  tends 
to  advance  the  intelligence  of  the  connuunity  had  his  energetic 
support. 

Ife  Avas  never  idle.  AVork  always  seemed  a  pastime  for  him. 
Some  years  ago  I  heard  him  say  that  the  weeks  of  his  sunmier 
vacation  were  harder  for  him  to  dispose  of  than  any  other  jjart 
of  the  year.  He  went  on  with  his  labors  to  the  end.  The 
expectation  that  his  remaining  time  was  short,  and  that  death 
might  occur  at  any  moment,  did  not  lead  him  to  lay  doAvn  his 
wonted  employments.  He  wrote  and  ])reached  and  lectured  as 
usual,  doing  everything  cheerfully,  making  no  complaint  <»f 
physical  weakness.  He  quietly  gave  up  meetings  wdiich  he 
was  not  aide  to  attend,  was  taken  in  a  carriage  to  the  Divinity 
School  when  he  could  not  walk,  but  evinced  in  conference 
\vith  his  colleagues  and  in  his  instructions  in  the  class-room 
just  the  same  vigor  of  mind  and  the  same  liveliness  of  feeling 
as  of  old.  He  communicated  to  us,  last  spring,  in  a  very  sim- 
ple way  the  nature  of  his  iiuilady  and  the  uncertainty  of  the 
continuance  of  his  life.  Then  his  work  with  us  went  on  with 
no  perceptible  change  in  him,  except  a  tinge,  pathetic,  though 
slio-ht,  of  added  tenderness  in  his  manner. 


210  LEOXAKD    BACON. 

When  Dr.  Bacon  became  one  of  the  coqjs  of  theological 
teachers  in  Yale  Divinity  School,  his  younger  associates,  much 
as  they  honored  him  and  desired  his  appointment,  were  not 
without  a  degree  of  apprehension  that  there  might  be  some 
want  of  freedom  in  the  presence  of  his  positive  character  and 
emphatically  outspoken  opinions  on  all  questions  which  he  was 
called  to  consider.  All  apprehensions  of  this  sort  were  so*»n 
dissipated.  We  found  him  uniformly  gentle  and  considerate, 
not  in  the  least  disposed  to  press  unduly  his  own  ideas  upon 
our  acceptance,  and  helpful  and  obliging  in  the  highest  degree. 
Fertile  in  new  plans,  he  was,  fortunately,  at  the  furthest  re- 
move iroin  obstinacy  in  insisting  on  measnres  which  were  not 
acceptable  to  his  colleagues.  No  instructor  could  exhibit 
toward  his  fellows  a  more  unsellish  spirit.  At  the  same  time 
he  equaled,  if  he  did  not  outstrip  us  all  in  enthusiasm  mtli 
regard  to  our  common  work.  In  our  conferences,  he  brought 
out  of  his  full  mind  treasures  new  and  old  ;  treasures  both  of 
fact  and  of  suggestion.  As  to  the  students,  he  was  lenient  in 
his  judgments,  kindly  and  yet  searching,  and  eminently  wise 
and  stimulating,  in  his  criticisms.  He  never  manifested  to 
either  professors  or  pupils  any  of  the  faults  which  have  com- 
monly been  thought  to  be  characteristic  of  old  men.  At  the 
l)eginning  we  felt  toward  him  a  high  respect  and  esteem. 
More  and  more,  without  any  effort  on  his  part,  merely  by 
showing  himself  as  he  was,  he  won  our  cordial  love. 

The  observation  has  often  been  made  that  Dr.  Bacon  might 
have  l)een  and,  perhaps,  ought  to  have  been,  a  senator  in  Con- 
gress, or  a  great  advocate  at  the  bar.  It  is  true  that  his  for- 
ensic talents  were  of  a  high  order.  It  is  true  that  he  had  a 
statesmanlike  habit  of  thought.  Had  he  entered  on  the  career 
of  a  lawyer  or  of  a  politician,  he  would  have  achieved  eminent 
distinction.  F)nt  I  do  not  concur  in  the  opinion  that  the  path 
which  he  chose  was  the  less  desirable  one.  The  moral  element 
was  supreme  in  his  mental  constitution.  He  has  discussed  the 
gravest  public  (piestions  in  a  way  to  instruct  and  impress  a 
vast  number  of  educated  minds,  and  he  has  done  this  (juite  as 
effectively  in  his  character  as  a  citizen,  holding  no  office  and 
aspiring  to  none,  as  if  he  had  been  clad  in  the  robes  of  office. 
He  has  been,  at  the  same  time,  a  heroic,  untiring  servant  of  the 


LKONAHD    HACOX.  l!  1  i 

clnircli.  Tie  has  re]) resented  the  interests  of  reli<;i(>n  and  nio- 
ralitv  before  tlie  AnieiMcan  eoninmnity  witli  an  ahihty  which 
has  coniuianded  the  res])e{-t  <>f  the  ablest  men  in  every  \v;dk  of 
life.  ( )tticial  station  niiiiht  not  have  increased  his  inflnenee. 
It  niight  have  fnrnished  occasion  for  attacks  on  the  pni-ity  of 
his  motives  and  the  independence  of  liis  judgment,  which  he 
escaj)ed. 

The  place  tilled  by  Dr.  IJacon  was  in  some  respects  unicpie. 
In  his  own  province  lie  had  no  superior.  None  are  left  to 
bend 

"  The  might}'  bow  that  once  Ulysses  bore." 

The  great  eifect  of  his  life  remains.  Those  who  knew  him 
best  will  never  cease  to  cherish  toward  him  the  deepest  honor 
and  affection. 

New  Haven,  Oouu. 


[FBOM  THE  independent:] 


THE    LATE    DR.    BACON. 


By  President  Noah  Porter,  D.D.,  LL.D. 


T  am  asked  to  give  a  few  of  my  recollections  of  the  late  Dr. 
Bacon.  It  is  not  easy  to  select  a  few  out  of  the  throng  which 
r  cannot  but  recall.     Nevertheless,  I  will  make  the  attempt. 

The  iirst  was  in  my  childhood,  when  I  heard  of  a  student  of 
divinity  at  Andover  of  remarkable  gifts,  especially  in  litera- 
ture, whose  torn  window-curtain  had  occasioned  some  sharp 
remarks  from  a  pert  young  miss,  which,  when  reported  to  him, 
had  called  forth  a  lively  poetic  response,  which  was  pul^lished 
in  The  Boston  Recorder.  The  Boston  Recorder  then  was 
almost  the  only  religious  newspaper  in  New  England  and  the 
United  States.  "•  No  Fiction  "  was  almost  the  only  religious 
novel,  and  this  was  not  approved  in  all  religious  circles. 
Scott's  novels  and  Lord  Byron's  poems  were  the  cliief  attrac- 
tions of  current  literature,  and  how  far  either  were  either  edi- 
fying or  even  worthy  of  toleration  in  Christian  families  was  a 
matter  of  grave  discussion.  But  the  rising  wave  of  missionary 
enterprise,  which  had  appeared  a  few  years  before,  had  now 
gathered  force  and  was  moving  powerfull)'  through  New  Eng- 
land. The  recent  revivals  of  religion,  in  which  I)rs,  I)eecher 
and  Taylor  and  Nettleton  were  so  prominent,  had  led  many  to 
raise  their  hopes  of  the  sj)eedy  coming  of  the  Millennium;  the 
newly-inspired  spirit  of  benevolence  was  j)rompting  to  what  at 
that    time    seemed   wonders    of    self-sacriiice    and     liberality; 


LEONARD    BACON,  2  U» 

Siniday-scliools  wcM-e  almost  in  tlieir  infancv ;  tlic  iniMlcni 
iiiovenieiits  foi"  moral  and  social  reform  were  hardly  in  their 
bud  when  Leonard  l>aeon  beij^an  his  public  life,  a  stri])lin<>;  of 
twenty-three,  a  wide-minded  and  self-reliant  student,  who  had 
found  stuff  to  kindle  his  romantic  fancy  in  the  niissionai'v  ro\- 
in^s  of  his  fervid  father  amouij  the  western  frontiei's  and 
alon^Jj  the  western  lakes,  and  had  fed  his  intellect  hy  the  enthu- 
siastic study  of  the  masters  of  Eniilish  literature.  His  eai'ly 
writings  exhibited  m(»re  than  usual  powei-  of  debate,  mai'ked 
self-reliance  in  uttci-ini!,-  his  o])inions,  keen  wit,  daring  invec- 
tive, and  soaring  ehxjuence,  all  of  which  he  could  not  but 
express  in  clear,  strong,  and  felicitous  language. 

When  I  entered  college,  he  had  been  two  years  Pastoi-  of  the 
Center  C'hurch.  As  he  preached  now  and  then  from  the  tall 
])ulpit  of  the  old  chapel,  and  the  still  taller  pulpit  in  his  own 
church,  he  was  chieliy  distinguished  for  the  positiveness  and 
self-reliance  with  which  he  spoke  and  the  freedom  from  a  pul- 
pit dialect ;  but,  as  no^v  and  then  some  occasional  discourse 
was  called  for  on  some  missionary  or  benevolent  theme,  or 
some  demand  of  public  morals,  or  when  excited  by  some  i)olit- 
ical  or  commercial  crisis,  he  was  inspired  with  special  energy 
and  seemed  quite  another  man  than  in  his  ordinary  ministra- 
tions. New  Haven  was  then  a  city  of  some  eight  oi-  nine 
thousand  inhabitants.  Two  Congregational  churches,  one 
Episcopal,  one  Baptist,  and  one  Methodist,  and  the  College 
chapel  were  all.  One  Roman  Catholic  family  only  was  known 
in  the  town.  On  a  great  religious  occasion  at  the  Center 
(Church  the  city  was  moved  by  a  common  sympathy.  During 
the  great  revival  of  1881  the  whole  city  kept  a  Sabbath  of 
four  days  of  solemn  and  excited  stillness,  in  which  the  pastor, 
then  of  five  years'  standing  was  prominent.  Before  this  event, 
however,  he  had  passed  a  serious  crisis  in  his  ministry  and  his 
life,  which  he  has  appropi'iately  (commemorated. 

Before  this  time  the  so-called  New  Haven  theoloffv  had 
attracted  public  attention,  and  had  begun  to  agitate  the 
churches  in  and  out  of  New  England.  The  Quarterly  Chris- 
tian  Spectator  in  1829  was  establislied  as  the  organ  of  the 
New  Haven  School.  Dr.  Bacon  was  led  most  naturally,  from 
his  early  associatittns  and  the])ractical  and  progressive  character 


220  LEONARD    BACON. 

of  his  mind,  to  sympathize  with  maii>',  if  not  all  of  its  posi- 
tions and  became  a  frequent  contributor  to  the  jjages  of  the 
new  review.  His  contributions  were  chiefly  literary  and  ethi- 
cal and  reformatory,  rather  than  theological.  His  sympathy 
with  the  new  theological  direction  was  most  signiflcantly  and 
characteristically  shown  in  the  edition  of  the  select  works  of 
Richard  Baxter,  which  he  published  in  1831.  With  his  studies 
for  this  labor  of  love  began  those  researches  which  were  the 
joy  of  his  life,  which  brought  him  into  close  communion  with 
the  heroes  of  freedom,  of  civil,  religious,  and  ecclesiastical 
reform,  and  the  champions  of  a  national  C^hristian  theok>gy. 
From  this  time  Dr.  Bacon's  life-long  mission  began  to  be  dis- 
tinctively detined  to  himself  and  to  others.  The  cause  of 
public  morals  in  his  own  city  was  espoused  with  characteristic 
boldness  and  enforced  by  his  lively  wit  and  bold  invective. 
The  great  benevolent  enterprises  were  all  eloquently  cham- 
pioned and  liberally  responded  to  l)y  his  people.  It  was  not 
long  before  his  latent  individuality  asserted  itself  most  posi- 
tively in  certain  lines  of  ecclesiastical  leadership.  In  1835  he 
led  the  General  Association  of  Connecticut  to  pass  a  set  of  crit- 
ical resolutions  against  the  inroads  and  ])retensions  of  itinerant 
evangelists,  the  aim  of  which  was  well  enough  understood.  In 
183f)  the  Presbyterian  cliurch  was  violently  disrupted,  chiefly 
on  theological  grounds.  This  event  was  attended  and  followed 
by  a  series  of  agitations  in  (A>nnecticut  which,  in  the  view  of 
many,  threatened  a  division  of  the  Congregational  ministers 
and  churches.  In  these  discussions  Di".  Bacon  was  conspicuous. 
A  newspaper  was  established  in  New  Haven  in  which  he  was 
greatly  interested,  and  in  an  occasional  periodical,  called 
Yiews  and  Reviews^  he  published  two  or  three  series  of  vigor- 
ous letters,  protesting  with  all  the  energy  at  his  command 
against  the  necessity  and  the  ( 'hristianity  of  any  movement 
toward  a  division. 

The  meetings  of  the  General  Association  of  the  State  were 
for  several  years  the  arena  on  which  liis  varied  rescnirces  were 
brilliantly  and  efficiently  displayed.  This  controversy  had 
scarcely  begun  to  abate  Mdien  his  energies  were  aroused  in  a 
ncAv  direction.  Tlie  yeai-  183S  was  observed  in  commemora- 
tion of   the  end   of  the  second   centurv  since  tlie  settlement  of 


l-KONAKD    liACON.  '2'2\ 

Xew  TlaviMi.  Into  the  ;iiT!iiii>;enK'nt  for  thv  .siiital)le  obserx- 
ance  of  this  event  Di-.  IJaeoii  threw  all  the  ardor  and  energy  of 
his  nature.  The  first  result  was  the  preparation  of  his  histoi'- 
ieal  discourses  of  the  I'irst  ("liui-ch  in  New  llaveu,  a  woi-k 
whicli  was  not  only  a  model  of  its  kind,  hut  has  a  still  greater 
interest  from  its  relation  to  the  sul)se(juent  histoi'v  of  Di'. 
Bacon's  own  ^tudies.  It  eonlii-med  and  steadied  the  ai-dent 
enthusiasm  whieh  lie  inlieritcd  from  his  father  for  the  heroes 
who  settled  Xew  England.  It  determined  his  favorite  re- 
searches in  the  direction  of  the  history  and  polity  of  the  New 
England  churches.  Ills  snbsequent  elaborate  tracing  of  the 
origination  and  o])eration  of  the  Saybrook  Platform  ;  the  quaint 
and  archaic  codification  of  the  usages  of  the  New  England 
churches,  which  he  prepared  foi-  the  Boston  Council ;  his 
learned  woi'k  on  the  '^  Genesis  of  the  New  England  Churches ;" 
his  growing  tenacity  of  the  old  usages ;  his  continued  jirotests 
for  the  freedom  and  independence  of  the  local  church  ;  his 
tenacious  and  what  seemed  to  some  his  needless  protests  against 
Congregationalism  as  a  sect  will  be  readily  recognized  as  the 
legitimate  fruits  of  his  memorable  work  in  1S38.  This  work 
had  another  good  effect.  It  brought  him  nearer  to  the  hearts 
of  his  fellow-citizens  of  all  classes.  In  teaching  them  to  be 
])roud  of  their  own  history,  he  taught  them  to  be  proud  of  the 
man  who  had  shown  that  their  city  had  a  histoi'v.  The  medal 
which  commemorated  this  celebration  in  1888  and  the  marble 
tablets  over  the  entrance  of  the  church  with  the  construction 
of  the  crypt  beneath  its  floor — the  last  two  the  loving  work  of 
his  old  age — are  fi-uits  and  evidences  of  this  historic  enthu- 
siasm. This  historical  work  was  scarcely  finished  when  a  new 
labor  was  prepared  for  his  hands.  He  had  been  originally, 
with  very  many,  not  to  say  most  philanthropists,  an  advocate  of 
African  colonization,  as  the  only  practical  remedy  for  slavery. 
His  antagonism  to  slavery  itself  was  greatly  intensified  by  a 
subsequent  personal  knowledge  of  plantation  life.  The  radical 
and  anti-Christian  abolitionism  of  many  of  the  innnediate 
emancipationists  aroused  an  equally  positive  opposition,  in 
which  satire  and  invective  had  free  play.  Foi'  several  years 
he  protested  against  both  parties  with  a  nearly  eijual  hostility, 
which  he  found  abundant   occasion  to  express.     But  events 

16 


•2-2-2  LEONAEl)    BACON", 

moved  rapidly  toward  a  crisis.  In  the  meantime  the  JVfit^ 
Enghvnder  was  started,  in  1843,  chiefl}'  under  Dr.  Bacon's 
inspiration,  with  the  avowed  design  of  discussing  political, 
social,  religions,  and  literary  topics  of  present  interest  in  a 
])opular  style.  This  jjeriodical  engrossed  Dr.  Bacon's  atten- 
tion for  sevei'al  years  and  was  for  a  season  after  the  death  of 
the  first  editor  under  his  immediate  control.  In  1848  The 
Independent  was  started,  and  in  its  weekly  demands  upon  his 
pen  and  his  counsels  it  furnished  him  with  full  occupation, 
while  the  clouds  were  gathering  foi-  the  impending  storm. 
Meanwhile,  the  controversy  over  the  various  phases  of  Dr. 
Bushnell's  theology  interested  him  intensely.  The  (ieneral 
Association  of  (Connecticut  became  again  the  scene  of  earnest 
discussion,  and  ominous  preparation  for  a  division  of  ecclesias- 
tical fellowship  were  again  threatening;  and  Dr.  Bacon  was 
again  at  his  post,  using  all  his  powers  of  ])en  and  speech  to 
avert  so  serious  a  calamity.  As  a  conse(|uence,  he  ])ecame 
more  and  more  distinctly  catholic  in  his  own  views  of  theology 
and  more  and  more  comprehensive  in  his  Christian  sympathies. 
In  1866  he  withdrew  from  the  active  duties  and  responsibilities 
of  his  pastorate,  and  for  five  years  taught  revealed  or  biblical 
theology  in  the  Theological  Department  of  Yale  College,  and 
from  1871  till  his  death  he  gave  instruction  in  church  jiolity 
and  the  ecclesiastical  history  of  New  England. 

In  everv  one  of  these  manifold  spheres  of  activity  there  was 
special  discipline  for  his  quick  and  vigorous  mind.  To  each 
he  brought  keen  discernment,  comprehensive  judgment,  a  tena- 
cious memory,  and  a  waivm  and  even  ardent  personal  sympathy. 
From  each  he  emerged  a  stronger  and  a  ripei-  man,  till  in  the 
last  ten  years  of  useful  and  ha])py  life,  lie  seemed  to  have 
attained  the  ideal  consummation  of  experiences  so  varied  by 
toil  and  so  stirring  in  combat.  He  had  not  lost  a  whit  of  his 
idiosyncrasy.  He  M^as  as  headlong  in  assertion  and  as  accpiies- 
cent  under  reply  or  explanation,  as  violent  in  invective,  and  as 
o-enerous  in  personal  feeling;  but  there  gathered  around  him 
insensibly  a  pervading  serenity  of  spirit,  which  made  him  seem 
the  more  human  in  proportion  as  he  became  more  heavenly. 
iris  prayers  had  always  been  remarkable  for  touching  ])athos 
and  seraphic  elevation.      At  the  bedside  of  tlic  sick  and  dying, 


LKONAKD     r.AC'ON.  228 

in  the  huslicnl  cii-cli'  of  the  hereaved,  in  tlie  woisliij)  of  the 
ijreat  eoni!:rei>-uti()ii,  and  liefore  tlic  faniilv  altar  liis  (knotioiial 
nttoraiices  had  been  niodols  of  their  kind;  but  as  lie  pi-avcd  in 
hi>  ohl  a<i"e  In's  lips  seemed  to  luive  been  touched  with  a  eoal 
from  the  altar  of  (Icxh  In  "the  Club,"  of  whieh  he  had  been 
the  eliann  and  the  ]n-ide  for  forty  years  or  more,  he  was  the 
same  in  defects  and  merits,  but  always  jubilant  with  humor 
and  intense  with  life;  just  as  positive  in  assertion  and  ecpialh 
])atient  of  criticism  ;  and  more  P)aconian  than  evei',  and  yet 
more  catholic,  |»atient,  and  noble. 

The  article  in  the  Niir  Knyhnuhr  of  'Inly,  ISSl,  on  the 
corporation  of  "^'ale  College,  seems  to  nie  perfect  in  its  kind, 
brilliant  with  wit,  cogent  in  argument,  masterly  in  style,  and. 
above  all,  as  sweet  and  winning  as  though  it  were  the  first  essay 
of  a  carpet-knight,  and  not  the  last  charge  of  a  hundred  onsets. 

The  catholicity  of  his  theological  and  CUiristian  sympathies 
had  always  been  conspicuous  in  his  character.  His  eoncejitions 
of  the  Kingdom  of  God  were  always  enlarged  to  inchtde  evei-v 
form  of  human  welfare  and  progress.  IFis  youthful  fervor  in 
both  directions  had  become  confirmed  into  (juiet  and  immov- 
able convictions.  TTis  old  experience  had  attained  to  more 
than  one  proj)lietic  strain.  It  so  happened  that  he  and  myself 
wei-e  at  the  la^st  meeting  of  the  General  Association  of  Con- 
necticut, at  which  T  was  somewhat  relnctantly  re(|uired  to 
speak  of  the  history  of  theological  parties  in  (Connecticut  since 
1837,  the  year  when  the  same  church  edifice  was  almost  rocked 
to  and  fro  by  the  waves  of  theological  strife. 

He  followed  with  greatei'  liberty  of  speech,  as  he  referred 
to  the  fierce  conflicts  in  that  house  of  some  forty-four  years 
before,  when  he  had  lieen  twelve  years  and  I  had  l)een  one  in 
the  ministry.  In  referring  afterward  to  this  freedom  which  he 
had  used,  he  said,  with  great  fervor  and  feeling,  that  he  found 
it  difficult  to  restrain  his  feelings  when,  he  went  back  to  those 
times  of  peril  to  the  churches  of  the  State  from  the  forces 
which  were  then  massed  to  divide  them.  Little  did  many  Mdio 
heard  of  him  by  report  or  who  read  his  brilliant  satire  know 
how  deeply  were  ind)edded  in  his  heart  an  heroic  consecration 
to  the  Kingdom  of  God  and  a  fervent  faith  in  its  certain  tri- 
umph and  a  knightly  loyalty  to  his  Master  and  Redeemer. 


•2'24  LEONARD    BACON. 

Ill  liis  own  household  lie  was  a  model  of  sweetness  and 
patience  and  good  humor.  His  children  and  his  children's 
children  were  his  joy  and  pride.  Some  of  his  most  effective 
articles  for  the  press  are  known  to  have  l)een  written  with  one 
child  in  his  lap  and  another  at  his  feet,  amid  manifold  inter- 
ruptions and  more  numerous  cares  and  anxieties.  As  one  and 
another  of  tlie  dearest  and  sweetest  were  taken  out  of  his  life, 
he  suffered  none  the  less  that  he  retained  his  com])osure  and 
calmly  prosecuted  his  work. 

I  may  sj3eak  of  his  i-elations  to  myself  in  the  office  which  1 
have  held  during  the  last  ten  years  ;  of  his  uniform  personal 
courtesy  and  delicate  attentions,  that  were  very  significant  from 
a  man  of  his  mold  and  tendencies ;  but  all  of  Avliich  were  not 
unnoticed  and  can  never  be  forgotten.  It  has  often  happened, 
during  this  period,  .that  I  have  overtaken  him  in  his  walks,  of 
late  somewhat  slower  than  formerly,  and  I  have  never  failed  to 
elicit  some  sparkle  of  wit  or  wisdom  from  the  three  miuutes 
of  conversation  that  followed. 

The  Thursday  aftei'noon  before  liis  death  I  met  him  f(^r  a 
moment  near  the  door  of  my  office.  We  had  a  brief  conversa- 
tion about  the  provision  for  the  wants  of  a  Chinese  student 
whom  he  had  given  a  home  in  his  own  house,  when  cast  off 
from  home  and  friends  by  the  profession  of  his  Christian  faith. 
As  we  parted,  he  commended  him  to  my  care,  as  his  last  word 
in  this  life. 

At  his  burial,  on  Tuesday,  I  (ibserved  this  youth  from  (1iina 
in  the  family  group,  together  with  a  young  lady  from  Jai)an, 
who  had  for  many  years  been  an  inmate  of  that  household  and 
who  a  few  months  before  had  received  Christian  baptism  from 
her  honored  and  beloved  friend.  This  scene  suggested  mani- 
fold thoughts  concerning  the  progi-ess  of  the  Kingdom  of  Cod 
durinir  the  vears  that  have  marked  the  life  of  this  noble  cham- 
pion  for  its  principles  and  this  fervent  believer  iu  its  final 
triumph.  (V)uld  he  have  foreseen  that  among  the  multitude  of 
devout  men  who  followed  him  to  his  burial  these  representa- 
tives would  be  present  from  (/hina  and  Japan,  as  members  of 
his  own  household  and  of  the  household  of  faith,  he  would 
have  said,  in  anticipation:  "I  shall  not  have  lived  hi  vain." 

Yale  College,  New  Haven,  Conn, 


FIIOM    rill-:  IM}Kl-KM)EXT.\ 


KHMINISCENCHS  Ul-   LliONARl)  BACON. 


By  Theodore  D.  Woolsey,  D.D.,  LL.D. 


It  seems  to  me  that  I  can  best  serve  the  memorv  of  my  ohl 
friend  and  classmate.  Dr.  Bacon,  l)y  putting  what  I  have  to  say 
in  the  form  of  I'enmiiscences  of  his  early  years  and  of  estmiates 
of  his  character  and  opinions.  More  ought  to  be  said,  and  in 
<i  different  sti'ain,  of  a  man  who  has  served  not  his  generation 
only,  but  nearly  two  generations,  by  constant  activity  in  snp- 
])0)-ting  that  which,  in  his  iimiost  conviction,  was  good  in  tJie 
great  practical  movements  of  the  age,  relating  to  religion,  to 
the  reform  of  society  in  varions  respects,  to  politics,  and  to 
ecclesiastical  polity.  Some  one  nmst  undertake  a  more  exten- 
sive review  of  his  life ;  but  perhajjs  I  may  say  several  things 
which  may  not  suggest  themselves  to  others. 

The  tii-st  knowledge  I  had  of  Leonard  Bacon  was  at  the 
beginning  of  our  sophomore  year,  in  1817,  when  he  entered 
the  class  of  which  I  was  a  mendjer  and  was  assigned  to  the 
division  to  M^hicli  I  belonged.  Tt  was  the  usage  then  in  Yale 
(^ollege  for  a  tutor  to  instruct  his  division  in  all  branches  of 
study — a  usage  undesirable  for  more  reasons  than  one,  but 
good,  as  nniting  the  scholars  to  an  able  and  wiiming  tutor. 
Prof.  Alexander  M.  .Fisher,  a  man  of  incomparable  ability  and 
genins  in  mathematics  and  natural  philosophy,  chosen  into  his 
office  in  1817,  was  our  division  officer  in  1818-19,  without  tak- 
ing all  the  studies  under  his  supervision.     We  were  proud  of 


22fi  LEONARD    BACON. 

him  and  honored  him.  Of  the  class  I  knew  but  little,  as  I 
lived  away  from  commons  and  the  college  bnildings,  in  the 
house  of  a  near  relative.  Bacon  was  a  stranger  to  me  very 
much  until  late  in  our  junior  year.  He  had  a  good  standing, 
hut  not  among  the  first  scholars,  l)eing  engrossed  with  reading 
to  a  considerable  extent  outside  of  the  college  studies. 

It  was,  if  I  remember  aright,  in  the  junior  year  that  common 
interests  in  the  aifairs  of  the  "'■  Brothers'  Society,"  one  of  the 
two  societies  which  divided  college  between  them,  brought 
together  three  of  us  (Bacon,  Twining,  and  myself),  to  write  a 
series  of  papers,  which  were  called  the  TaleJjearer,  and  were 
read  by  an  officer  of  the  society  called  the  reader.  They  were, 
of  course,  anonymous,  but  it  was  well  understood  who  were 
the  "  editors."  The  papers  were  juvenile  and  hastily  written, 
but  lively  and  sometimes  (as  the  society  was  split  into  parties) 
more  or  less  polemical ;  but  they  did  good,  at  least,  to  their 
authors,  l)y  a  discipline  in  writing  which  was  not  without  its 
use  in  supplementing  the  rhetorical  exercises  in  college.  Quite 
a  number  of  them  were  in  verse,  among  which  one  of  Bacon's 
for  sparkling  wit  was  quite  beyond  the  average  of  similar  col- 
lege performances. 

In  our  senior  year,  as  things  then  were,  we  liad  ample  leisure 
to  read  and  study  for  ourselves.  Bacon  and  his  room-mate, 
Chester  Isham,  Stoddard  and  Brockway,  Twining  and  myself 
formed  a  club  called  the  Hexahedron,  wliich  met  once  a  week 
in  turn  at  <me  of  oui-  three  rooms  and  devoted  an  evening 
chiefly  to  the  reading  of  English  poetry  and  especially,  if  I 
remember  aright,  to  the  older  poetry  of  our  language.  Bacon 
was  fond  of  reading  poetry  and  in  a  few  instances  attempted  it. 
But,  when  Wordsworth  came  to  be  read  and  valued  in  this 
country,  he  was  not  one  of  those  who  listened  with  much  ])leas- 
ure  to  the  7iew  uiinstrel,  at  least  in  the  earlier  part  of  his  life. 
A  few  years  after  this  he  contributed  to  a  short  collection  of 
hynms  which  he  ])repared  some  of  his  own,  which  have  since 
appeared  iu  other  hymn  books.  Such  are  ''Though  now  the 
nations  sit  beneath,"  a  missionary  hymn,  and  the  excellent  one 
on  a  missionary's  deatlf,  ''Weep  not  for  the  saint  that  ascends  f 
the  hymn  on  Forefather's  Day,  "O  (lod,  beneath  thy  guiding 
hand,"  which  is  still  naturally  chosen  foi-  that  occasion  before 


LEONAIili    MACON,  227 

most  others;  and  the  ]);iti'iotic  liyimi.  ••CJod  of  < mi- fathers  to 
thv  tlirone."  tlie  coiminiMioii  hvniii,  "■  ( )  thou  \vh(»  liast  <h'('(l  to 
redeem  us  from  hell,"  and  the  sweet  evening'  hvimi.  •*llail, 
traiupiil  liour  of  cdosiiiii,'  day,"  wliicli  was  exidently  siii»'ge8ted 
by  the  well-known  liymn,  '"  I  love  to  steal  awhile  away,'-  and 
may  well  contend  with  that  favorite  in  sentiment  and  exj)res- 
sion. 

l>ut  I  must  return  fi'om  this  dio-i-ession  to  the  chih,  from 
whieli  I  digressed,  and  ask  tt>  be  allowed  to  refer  to  its  individ- 
ual  members.  Stoddai'd  was  tlie  autlu)r,  together  with  Prof. 
Andrews,  of  the  well-known  l^atin  grammar  whicli  long  stood 
at  the  head  of  its  rivals  in  that  branch  of  instruction  in  tliis 
conntry.  He  was  professor  at  Middlebury,  Vermont,  and  a 
man  of  fei'vent  piety.  He  died  in  1847.  His  room-mate, 
l>rockway,  became  a  country  lawyer  in  ('onnecticnt  and  served 
one  tei-m  in  Congress.  He  was  the  most  frolicksome  and 
joyous  of  us  all.  He  died  in  1870.  C'liester  Isham,  one  of  our 
very  best  scliolars,  was  held  to  be  somewhat  plodding  in  col- 
lege ;  but  a  noticeable  change  took  place  in  him  when  he  gave 
himself  to  the  study  of  theology.  x\j)parently,  it  was  the 
result  of  (juickened  religious  feelings.  He  preached  with  such 
energy  and  power  that  he  was  invited,  very  early  after  leaving 
Andover,  to  fill  an  important  pulpit  in  Eastern  Massachusetts. 
He  married,  and  in  less  than  two  years  after  his  settlement 
died,  in  1825.  He  was  Bacon's  nearest  friend,  from  the  begin- 
ning  of  theii"  college  life  until  his  death.  These  are  all  gone, 
and  of  the  living,  besides  myself,  there  is  but  one  of  the  six 
remaining,  my  dear  friend.  Prof.  Twining. 

The  senior  year  passed  happily  away,  and  we  were  soon  dis- 
pei'sed,  not  to  meet  again  except  as  individual  friends.  The 
day  after  our  graduation,  two  of  those  who  had  been  among  his 
best  friends  walked  with  Bacon  as  far  as  Whitneyville,  on  the 
road  lie  was  intending  to  take  to  Hartford,  on  foot.  They  told 
him  plainly  that  he  had  not  made  the  most  of  himself  in  col- 
lege ;  that  he  had  not  studied  enough  and  was  in  danger  of 
hurting  himself  by  superficial  habits  of  reading.  The  friends 
bade  farewell,  and  ere  long  he  was  established  at  Andover, 
with  Isham  for  his  room-mate.  T^ow,  as  it  afterward 
appeared,  the  responsil)ilities  of  life  pressed  upon  him,  and  he 


228  LEOXAED    BACON. 

did  faithful  work  in  liis  theological  eihication.  At  the  end  of 
the  course  Bacon  M^as  chosen  to  make  the  principal  address  on 
the  day  when  tlie  class  left  the  Seminary.  I  went  to  Andover 
to  hear  my  friend's  address,  and  rejoiced  in  the  proofs  that  he 
gave  of  his  progress.  During  the  next  year  and  the  first  part 
of  1825  he  preached  in  several  places,  and,  at  length,  received 
a  call  to  the  First  CJhnrch  in  New  Haven,  which  Dr.  Taylor 
had  left,  at  the  close  of  1822,  in  order  to  assume  the  professor- 
ship of  theology  in  the  new  theological  department  of  Yale 
College.  lie  was  ordained  a  year  and  a  half  after  he  left 
Andover,  in  March,  1825,  just  after  completing  his  twenty - 
third  year.  Things  were  not  then  as  they  are  now.  A  min- 
ister, according  to  the  old  prevailing  usage,  was  married  for 
life  to  his  people  or  parish  in  the  early  times.  Separations 
were  as  rare  from  the  hrst  ministry  as  divorces  from  the  wife 
of  one's  youth.  The  people  well  knew  tliat  a  minister  could 
not  know  everything  or  do  everything,  and  yet  everything  was 
laid  upon  him.  The  lawyer  and  the  physician  at  the  start  had 
little  practice,  and  were  not  worn  down  l)y  responsibility ; 
but  the  minister  a,t  twenty-four  had  everything  to  do  that  he 
would  have  to  do  at  fifty.  Unless,  therefore,  a  people  were 
reasonably  indulgent,  they  would  add  to  the  burden  which 
must  be  borne  by  him  and  perhaps  shorten  his  life. 

Mr.  Bacon  was,  if  anything,  in  a  worse  position  than  most 
young  men  of  his  age.  There  had  been  in  the  same  pulpit  a 
wdiile  l)efore  a  great  master  of  theology,  who  tired  off  heavy 
guns  every  Sunday  and  was  the  pride  of  the  Center  Church  in 
New  Haven.  The  people  were  not  re(piiring,  they  were  kind ; 
but  who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  ?  But  he  was  natively  a 
hopeful  man  and  a  l)rave  man,  and  moreover  was  kindly  sup- 
ported by  Drs.  Taylor  and  Goodrich.  That  these  first  years  of 
his  pastorate  and  their  struggles  w^ere  l)lest  to  him  mentally  and 
spiritually  cannot  be  doubted.  He  made  his  reading  service- 
able to  the  good  of  others  as  early  as  1831,  by  publishing 
"  Select  Practical  Writings  of  "Richard  Baxter,"  which  was  pi-e- 
faced  by  the  editor's  account  of  Baxter's  life.  In  the  year 
1835  there  was  a  commemoration  of  the  founding  of  New 
Haven,  two  centuries  before,  and  Mr.  Bacon  was  naturally 
expected   to  make  api)ro])riate  mention  of  it.  as  being  the  era 


LKOXAKD    RACOX.  220 

wluMi  tlio  clnircli  and  tlic  State  were  t'ounded  t<)<i;ethei\  hy 
I)aven])(»rt  and  Eaton.  Tlie  discourses,  which  were  delivered 
on  Sunday  evenings,  and  afterward  collected  into  a  vohniie 
entitled.  "Thirteen  Discourses  on  the  Two  Hundredth  Anni- 
versary of  the  Church  in  Xew  Haven"  (1S81)),  did  him  very 
^reat  credit,  lie  exploi-ed  the  records  and  hrou^ht  out  mate- 
rials hitherto  unknown.  He  illustrated  with  the  hand  of  a 
master  in  history  and  of  a  loving  Pastor  the  inciinabuhi  (»f  the 
colony  and  the  ])roii:;ress  of  the  church.  His  friends  and  the 
puhlic  receixed  his  woi-k  with  ju'aise  and  gratitude.  We  may 
regard  this  as  an  era  of  his  life  from  which  he  gained  a  iirm 
hold  of  ])ul)lic  contidence  and  felt  his  own  strength. 

It  was  ahont  the  same  yeai"  that  a  clul)  was  started,  as  niucli 
by  his  inliuence  as  by  that  of  any  other  ])erson,  which  included 
a  nund)er  of  college  })rofessors  and  Congregational  ministei's, 
together  with  some  of  the  lawyers  and  others.  This  clul>, 
which  has  continued  until  the  })resent  time  and  from  which  a 
number  of  the  earlier  members  have  passed  away — Dutton, 
Larned,  Gibbs,  Ludlow,  Henry  White,  among  others — was  a 
place  where  T)r.  Bacon  shone.  Its  general  agreement  on  great 
pul)lic  questions,  the  confidence  and  nearness  of  feeling  of  its 
mend^ers  to  one  another,  together  with  their  minor  differences 
of  opinion,  made  it  a  most  pleasant  circle  ;  and  here  the  very 
uncommon  powers  in  conversation  and  argument  of  our  friend 
shone  preeminently.  There  was  no  superior  in  age  or  in 
acknowledged  public  standing  among  the  members.  They  bat- 
tled in  a  friendly  way  for  the  truth.  Temperance,  anti-slavery, 
the  schools,  the  sects  of  Christendom,  the  special  political  and 
religious  questions  of  the  day,  whatever  at  the  time  excited 
interest,  was  chosen  for  discussion,  and  every  one  was  aided  in 
forming  his  opinions  by  every  other.  iJr.  Bacon's  wit,  his  rep- 
artee, keenness  of  perception,  and,  when  he  had  carefully  con- 
sidered a  subject,  his  soundness  of  judgment,  together  with  the 
l)rightness  and  originalitj^  of  his  way  of  stating  his  points 
made  him  the  life  of  the  company. 

In  183U  he  was  chosen  into  the  corjjoration  of  Yale  C^ollege, 
and  continued  to  hold  his  seat  until  1840,  when,  on  the  I'esig- 
nation  of  President  Day  and  in  order  to  make  a  place  for  that 
venerable  man,  he  resigned  his  own  seat.     He  was  re-elected  in 


230  LEONARD    BACON. 

1864  and  continued  in  that  body  until  liis  death.  Tu  the  course 
of  his  twenty-four  years  of  service,  he  contributed  his  full 
share  to  tiie  solution  of  those  important  questions  which  are 
ever  arising  in  a  living  and  grown  seat  of  learning. 

Not  long  after  this  he  projected  The  New  E'nglan<lei\  oi-,  if 
the  idea  did  not  come  iirst  from  him,  he  entered  into  the  pro- 
ject with  that  zeal  and  energy  without  which  it  could  not  have 
been  successful.  The  plan  was  that  there  should  be  a  com- 
mittee of  superintendence,  with  a  responsible  editor  ;  and  I 
suppose  that  the  committee,  of  which  the  writer  was  one,  were 
all  selected  by  Dr.  Bacon.  In  the  ])rospectus,  which  he  wrote 
or,  at  least,  inspired,  it  is  said  that  "'there  is  no  intention  of 
reviving  in  this  periodical  the  theological  discussions  in  which 
some  of  the  ablest  TvTew  England  divines  have  been  so  deeply 
enffaffed  within  the  last  fifteen  years."  In  other  words,  the 
periodical  is  not  to  be  a  mere  sequel  t(^  the  Christian  Specta- 
tor. A  new  generation  regards  the  controversy  on  "Taylor- 
ism"  as  having  finished  its  course  in  victory  and  as  needing 
no  more  advocacy  ;  and  again,  in  the  ''prolegomena"  which  he 
wrote,  he  says :  "  It  is  not  to  be  expected  that  among  so  many 
individuals  there  will  be  a  perfect  identity  of  opinion.  .  .  . 
One  of  us  may  say  to  another,  'I  am  not  so  sanguine  a  demo- 
crat as  you  are,'  or,  'You  are  more  zealous  for  Congregational- 
ism than  I  can  be,'  or,  'I  have  less  faith  in  the  doctrines  of 
political  economy  than  you.' "  These  words  show  the  freedom 
of  opinion  which,  as  Dr.  Bacon  expected  and  wished,  was  to 
reign  among  the  editors  and  the  contributors,  a  freedom,  of 
course,  limited  within  certain  bounds,  to  l)e  fixed  by  charity 
and  sound  sense.  According  to  these  views,  the  Neic  Eng- 
hiiKhu'  had,  if  I  may  so  say,  a  widei-  range  of  subjects  and  a 
larger  constituency,  who  in  the  main  approved  and  defended 
its  opinions,  than  the  j)lan  of  the  Christian  Spectator  could 
secure.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  Dr.  Bacon's  share  in  conti-i- 
butions.  his  variety  of  discussion,  his  brightness,  sometimes 
approacliing  to  flashes  of  lightning,  was  acknowledged  cm  all 
hands,  and  nowhei-e  was  his  infiueuce  moie  conspicuous  than 
here.  The  articles  which  he  furnished  to  the  New  Emjlander 
between  1843  and  ISOI  were  sixty-two  in  number,  and  would 
make,    if  printed   together,  several    good-sized    volumes.     By 


LEONARD    BACON.  931 

degrees  the  original  plan  of  the  work  was  given  up.  the  coiii- 
niittee  ceased  to  meet,  and  the  editors  were  responsible  for  the 
management  of  the  numbers,  but  until  the  present  time  the 
supplies  from  the  pen  of  the  (»1(1  man  who  founded  it  did  not 
fail.  Two  considerable  articles  written  by  him  lia\e  appeared 
within  a  few  months. 

Two  main  jxtints  occupied  Di-.  Hacon's  attention  during  the 
niost  vigorons  years  of  his  life — ecclesiastical  affairs  and  the 
great  discussion  of  the  slave  (piestion.  We  could  not  appre- 
ciate the  man  without  looking  foi'  a  moment  at  these  spheres 
of  his  activity. 

His  early  study  of  New  England  history  deepened  and  con- 
tinued his  native  Pnritan  tendencies,  and  he  was  led,  in  his 
pi'ogress  of  thought,  to  look  on  the  early  history  of  the  Pilgrim 
Fathers  with  more  and  more  fondness.  Tie  became  a  pi'oticient 
in  this  branch  of  study,  and  probably  no  man,  except  Dr.  TI. 
M.  Dexter,  has  searched  more  at  its  foundations.  lie  wi-ote, 
however,  no  important  work  until  he  took  the  chair  of  lecturer 
on  ecclesiastical  polity  and  American  church  history  in  the 
theological  faculty  of  Yale  College.  In  1871  he  gave  to  the 
world  his  "  (lenesis  of  the  New  England  Churches."  Those 
who  read  the  story  will  undei'stand,"  says  he,  "  I  trust,  what 
many  are  ignorant  of  and  some  historians  have  not  sufficiently 
ex])lained — the  difference  between  "our  Pilgrim  P^'athers"  and 
''  our  Puritan  Fathers."  '^  The  Puritan  was  a  nationalist, 
believing  that  a  (Christian  nation  is  a  Christian  church"; 
""  while  the  Pilgrim  was  a  xcpuratiMt — from  all  national 
churches."  Thus  Dr.  Bacon  may  he  called  a  "  Pilgrim,"  rather 
than  a  "  Puritan,"  and  as  such  he  could  not  have  joined,  if  he 
had  lived  at  the  time,  in  those  attempts  to  estal)lish  a  state 
church  in  Connecticut  which  originated  the  Saybrook  Platform 
and  the  system  of  consociation,  in  1708;  and  yet,  in  his  aide 
and  interesting  sketch  of  those  events,  in  1858,  a  century  and 
a  half  after  their  occurrence,  delivered  before  the  nn'nisters 
assendjled  at  Xorwich,  he  almost  takes  the  part  of  a  mediator 
between  ])ure  and  modified  Congregationalism  in  these  words 
of  truth  and  of  conciliation:  "  If  the  churches  of  Massachu- 
setts, by  their  cln'onic  jealousy  of  consociation,  have  guarded 
and  kept  intact  for  us  and  our  successors  the  independence  of 


232  LEOXAED    BACON. 

the  parochial  or  local  church,  the  churches  of  Connecticut,  on 
the  other  hand,  hj  their  strict  confederation,  have  guarded  and 
maintained  and  have  eifectually  commended  to  C'ongregation- 
alists  everywhere  that  ecjually  important  and  ecjually  distinctive 
principle,  the  communion  of  our  churches. 

In  accordance  with  these  views,  he  accej^ted  the  triennial 
conventions  of  the  late  years,  hut,  as  I  understand  it,  did  not 
desire  them  to  hecome  a  usage  and  a  law ;  nor  did  he  join  in 
new  platforms  and  confessions  of  faith  and  the  growing  ten- 
dency to  tui-n  the  "•churches"  into  a  '"Church,"  or  something 
very  near  it.  But  these  movements  hegan  somewhat  late  in  his 
ministei'ial  life,  and  his  own  church,  where  he  was  settled  so 
many  years,  had  not  for  generations  had  any  ]3art  in  the  Con- 
necticut system.  lie  did  not  take  as  active  a  part  in  them  as 
he  might  have  taken  twenty  years  hefore.  The  amity  which 
reigned  in  the  State  made  him  rather  a  counselor  everywhere 
sought  for  and  respected  than  the  representative  of  an  ecclesi- 
astical party.  He  was  looked  on  in  associations  and  conferences 
as  an  authority  who  knew  l)est  what  old  usages  were,  and  did 
not  wish  to  overturn  them.  We  may  say,  thus,  that  he  was  in 
a  sense  a  hisliop  of  Connecticut.  I  recollect  hearing  him  say 
once  that  in  every  hody  of  churclies  there  would  T)e  a  man  who 
had  the  episcopal  capacity,  a  hishop  endowed  for  the  office  l)y 
God.     It  was  something  so  in  his  case. 

As  for  the  opposition  to  slavery  in  the  time  of  it,  he  entered 
most  heartily  into  it,  if  any  one  else  did  in  this  region,  but 
could  not  coalesce  with  the  al)olitionists.  His  views  may  be 
found  in  several  articles  in  TJie  Nni)  En[ilandei\  and  in  course 
of  time  he  scarcely  differed  in  any  material  respect  from  men 
more  hostile  to  slavery  around  him — for  instance,  from  his 
warm  friend.  Dr.  Samuel  W.  S.  Dutton. 

In  connection  with  this  subject  I  miglif  say  a  word  on  Tlu 
Independent^  of  which  he  was  one  of  the  original  editors  ;  but, 
as  you,  Mr.  Editor,  knijw  your  own  history  best,  I  shall  leave  it 
in  your  hands. 

And  now  Ave  have  come  to  a  point  in  the  course  of  a  busy 
life  when  the  Pastor  of  forty  years'  standing  and  the  man  of 
almost  sixty-five  was  feeling  the  weariness  which  calls  for  per- 
manent rest.      lie  resigned  the  active  duties  of  his  chai-ge,  and 


i,Kt).\.\Hi>  BACON.  1^:5:^ 

was  invitt'd  to  take  for  tliv  tiiuc  the  instruction  of  theoloiiv  in 
tlie  the()loii;ical  dopartnicnt  of  Yale  College.  For  live  years  lie 
performed  tliis  duty,  until  the  election  of  Rev,  Dr.  Harris  as 
a  pcnnanent  professor,  in  1S71.  Then  he  received  the  a])])oint- 
nient  of  a  lectureship  on  churcii  polity  and  American  church 
history,  which  he  filled  until  his  death,  last  week,  Saturday, 
December  24tlu  1S81.  A  number  of  attacks  during  the  six  or 
eight  preceding  nu»nths  had  given  him  warning  that  he  might 
be  called  a\vay  at  any  time.  Tie  was  writing  on  Friday  even- 
ing, on  the  (juestion  how  to  deal  with  the  Mormons,  and  at 
live  the  next  morning  a  new  attack,  lasting  half  an  hour,  but 
not  so  severe  as  some  earlier  ones  were,  called  him  home. 
Thus  ended  this  last  and  most  happy  era  of  his  life,  in  which, 
ass<jciated  with  men  who  loved  and  honored  him,  em])loyed  in 
the  studies  which  he  preferred,  perhaps,  before  all  others, 
serving  God  and  the  church,  he  nearly  reached  the  age  of  foui- 
score  without  much  "  labor  and  sorrow." 

I  have  not  completed  what  I  wished  to  say  when  1  began, 
but  must  close  with  the  remark  that  the  crowning  honor  of 
Dr.  Bacon's  life  was  his  growth  in  Christian  purity  of  charac- 
ter. Xo  man  can  be  so  well  assured  of  this  as  those  who  have 
known  him  long,  have  been  familiar  with  him  in  several  stages 
of  life,  and  can  see  by  comparison  the  development  of  his 
character  in  the  best  direction.  I  will  instance  one  trait,  or 
gi-oup  of  traits  of  character.  In  his  youth  and  eai-ly  maidiood 
he  was  sometimes  indignant  toward  those  who  had  injured 
him,  and  "was  occasionally  sharp  and  severe  toward  his  literary 
opponents,  when,  perhaps,  there  was  not  sufficient  occasion. 
But,  as  often  happens  with  men  of  warm  temperament  when 
the  Christian  life  becomes  mature,  he  grew  softer  and  kinder ; 
his  charity  toward  those  who  differed  from  him  increased  ;  his 
wit  did  not  so  nmch  take  hold  of  ridiculous  points  in  a  man 
who  laid  himself  open  in  controversy.  There  was  more  than 
a  want  of  bigotry  in  him  (which  he  really  never  had) ;  there 
was  kindliness  toward  all  opinions,  unless  they  were  associated 
with  evil.  He  thus  gave  the  impression  to  those  who  came 
into  contact  with  him  casually  that  he  was  a  kind  man,  just  the 
same  that  he  gave  to  his  parishioners  in  their  afflictions  that  he 
took  a  part  in  their  sori-ow.     His  friends  loved  and  \alued  him 


284  LKOXAHI)    HACOX. 

inereasiii£!^ly,  and,  now  that  he  is  gone,  tliey  feel  that  it  will  not 
be  easy  to  find  one  possessed  of  so  rare  a  eond)ination  of  esti- 
mable qualities.  1,  for  one,  am  free  to  confess*  that,  when  1 
]>lace  his  yonth,  with  all  its  germs  of  power  and  its  sparkle 
and  brilliancy,  by  the  side  of  his  acme  and  his  old  age,  he 
grew  to  be  a  better,  a  wiser,  a  more  useful  man  than  I  had  ex- 
pected. Hopeful  and  admiring  as  his  friends  of  early  days 
were,  and  much  as  they  then  saw  in  him  of  genius  and  ability, 
so  large  an  influence,  so  much  softness  and  mellowness  of  feel- 
ing, such  growth  in  goodness  and  godliness  they  hardly  looked 
for.  ''  Like  the  sun,  he  gre^v  larger  at  the  setting," 
New  Haven,  Couti. 


[FROM  THE  CONOREGATTONALlsr: 


LEONARD    BACON. 


A  prince  and  a  great  man  is  suddenly  fallen  in  Israel.  A 
Xew-Englander  by  blood  and  synipathv  and  life,  though  not  in 
tlie  accident  of  l)irth,  an  always  able  and  sometimes  eloquent 
preacher,  an  influential  Pastor,  an  energetically  self-consistent 
theologian,  a  learned  and  lucid  teacher,  a  skilled  editor,  a  pro- 
found and  philosojihic  historian,  a  gifted  poet,  a  pungent  rea- 
soner,  a  fearless  sympathizer  with  every  struggle  against 
wrong,  a  i-eady  and  eft'ective  debater,  a  much-sought  counselloi', 
a  clear-headed  ( "hristian  pul>licist,  a  thinker  singulai-ly  ]3rompt, 
ill  fact,  to  fuse  and  forge  and  fit  the  abstract  of  all  great  prin- 
ciples to  the  exigencies  of  whatever  concrete  duty,  an  indefati- 
gal^le  worker,  holding  his  pen  to  the  last,  a  divine  the  ermine 
of  whose  piety  has  l)een  kept  unspotted  from  the  world  to 
well-nigh  four  score,  a  many-sided  scholar  who  might  have 
been  great  anywhere  and  who  would  have  been  good  everv- 
where,  a  man  the  totality  of  whose  Christian  manhood  always 
overtopped  each  separate  feature  of  his  excellence,  has  been 
called  to  his  eternal  reward,  leaving  no  peer  behind  him. 

We  liave  summarized  elsewhere  the  main  facts  of  his  career  : 
it  remains  here,  in  that  poor  and  hasty  way  possible  to  the  cir- 
cumstances, to  attempt  two  or  three  brief  hints  of  some  aspects 
of  what,  hy  original  endowment  and  superintending  provi- 
dence, God  made  him  to  become. 


23f)  LEOKAHl)    BA(;()K. 

As  a  Pastor  he  largely  shaped  one  of  the  most  important  as 
well  as  oldest  churches  of  Xew  England.  Entering  its  pulpit 
when  a  stripling  of  scarcely  three  and  twenty,  lV)r  more  than 
forty  years  he  l)ore  the  great  hurden  of  its  ever-growing 
re8ponsil)ilities  alone,  not  only  snccessfnlly,  but  in  a  manner 
whicli  made  his  subsequent  e7rie7nttis  relation,  to  the  last  hour, 
fruitful  of  influence.  And  this  in  spite  of  the  fact  that,  while 
he  nev^er  preached  weak  or  foolish  sermons,  he  did  sometimes 
preach  dull  ones.  His  was  a  great  soul  taking  most  kindly  to 
great  subjects,  and  thus  it  sometimes  came  about  that  on  ordi- 
nary occasions  the  fire  which  required  a  vigorous  draught  to 
l)ring  it  up  to  its  fullest  glow,  smoldered  a  little.  But  we 
never  heard  that  he  proved  une(]ual  to  an  emergency,  however 
portentous  or  unanticipated.  And  we  know  that  those  men — 
and  many  of  them  were  men  of  mai-ked  ability — who  sat  habit- 
ually under  his  ministry,  were  conscious  of,  and  responsive  to, 
the  same,  as  a  wise  and  perpetual  stimulus  to  every  good  word 
and  w^ork.  Had  he  died  having  lived  to  fill  only  the  place 
which  he  would  have  had  in  Connecticut,  and  in  the  land,  as 
the  Pastor  of  the  First  C^hurch  in  x^ew  Haven,  his  place  must 
have  been  assigned  high  upon  the  list  of  our  ministerial 
worthies. 

Put  some  sixty  of  his  almost  eighty  years  were  lived  in  the 
face  and  eyes  of  Yale  College,  and  in  closer  connection  with  it 
as  student,  fi'iend,  fellow,  professor ;  and  it  would  be  a  ven- 
turesome imagination  w^liich  should  take  u])on  itself  to  conjec- 
ture the  contribution  of  various  benign  infiuences  rendered  by 
him  to  its  general  welfare.  Thousands  and  thousands  of  its 
students  have  listened  to  his  calm,  clear  logic,  responded  to  his 
fervid  appeals,  laughed  at  his  fun,  respected  his  solid  sense, 
and  gone  all  over  the  world  with  a  kind  memory  in  some  cor- 
ner of  the  heart  for  his  honored  and  unforgetable  ])ersonality. 
While  those  who,  since  1866,  have  been  in  one  way  and 
another  under  his  direct  instniction  there,  must  liave  felt  that 
if  the  years  were  in  anything  dimming  the  lustre  of  his  talents, 
they  were  also  so  ripening  and  enriching  him.  as  on  the  whole 
to  make  increase  of  his  power. 

Dr.  Bacon  began  to  write  for  tlie  old  Christian  /Spectator 
while  he  was  yet  in   bis  minoi-ity.  a  student  at  Andover.     He 


I.KONAKl)    BACOX.  '2lM 

has  coiitrihuted  iiioi'c  than  oiu-  huiuh'ed  ossavs  to  the  JVew 
Krkcjlandcr — hiri>v  pait  nf  which  (Hiarterly,  in  fact,  in  the 
he»i,iiiiiiiiu\  he  was.  As  one  of  the  tliree  original  editors  of  the 
New  York  IiiiU'pcndeiit  he  hugely  helped  to  make  its  earliest 
ten  (»r  fifteen  years  its  hest — so  far.  lie  has  been  one  of  oui- 
own  most  freipient  and  valued  contributoi's.  lie  has  also 
wi'itten,  aiul  written  with  conclusive  foi'ce,  volumes  on  a 
variety  (»f  subjects.  IHs  XA/^v /v/  ///.s'r?/.s'.svW,  etc.  (lS4f)),  was 
declared  to  ha\e  had  large  influence  in  hringing  the  mind  of 
Abraham  Lincoln  into  that  state  which  enabled  him  to  do  his 
great  work.  His  Life  of  Ikh'hid'd  Bddier  (1881),  his  Manual 
for  YotHKj  Church  MemJ>erH  (1888),  his  Thirteeri  Historical 
Dixcourxrx  (1889),  and  notably  the  so-called  Boston  Platform^ 
largely  from  his  ])eu  (1872),  and  his  Genesis  of  the  JVeic  Eng- 
land Chiirches  (1874),  have  greatly  assisted  to  clarify  the  con- 
ee])tions  of  ( "ongregationalists  with  I'egard  to  the  true  nature 
of  the  honorable  facts  of  their  past  history,  the  exact  principles 
of  their  i)olity,  and  the  precise  (piality  of  the  duties  imposed 
by  that  polity  upon  them.  As  a  (Vmgregational  student  and 
author,  if  Di'.  Bacon  did  not  go  so  far  in  oi-iginal  research  as 
some  others  may  have  done,  he  was  unsurpassed  in  that  subtle 
skill  which  evolves  philosophy  safely  from  fact,  and  conversely 
settles  securely  what  ought  to  be  in  consideration  of  what  has 
been. 

And  this  suggests  one  of  the  usefulest  aspects  of  liis  char- 
acter as  l)rought  out  in  his  wholesome,  instructive,  persuasive 
and  delightful  relation  to  most  of  the  great  occasions  of  Con- 
gregationalism during  the  last  generation.  There  are  many 
who  must  still  remend)er  the  thrill,  which,  almost  thirty  years 
ago,  went  through  the  Alljany  (Convention  when  he  presented 
the  munificent  offer  of  Messrs.  Bowen  <k  McXamee  to  give 
$10,000  to  aid  in  ei-ecting  Congregational  meeting-houses  at 
the  West,  provided  all  other  C^ongregationalists  in  tlie  land 
(we  had  scarcely  2,000  churches  then,  all  told),  would  subscribe 
$40,000  more.  Who — present  in  the  great  Boston  Council  of 
18B5 — does  not  recall  his  pithy  and  pertinent  relation  to  its 
deliberations,  and  to  those  of  the  Oberlin  and  New  Haven 
Triennial  meetings  as  well.  We  all  remember  h<»w  he  presided 
over   each  of  the  tw^o  great   Brooklyn   advisory   councils — as 

17 


'2y>S  LEONAKD    BACON. 

indeed  over  otliers  wliose  name  is  legion.  And  what  will  the 
annual  meeting  of  the  American  Board  be  without  liis  spicy, 
sagacious  and  benignant  presence !  When  called  upon  sud- 
denly at  Plymouth  Rock,  in  1865,  to  till  a  narrow  gap  of  time, 
he  wittily  said,  "  What  is  the  use  of  a  man  w/uj  is  essentially 
long-winded,  undertaking  to  make  a  speech  in  three  minutes." 
He  knew  himself  essentially  as  to  that.  He  did  not  always 
turn  about  and  around  upon  his  feet  so  readily  as  if  he  had 
been  a  smaller  and  a  swifter  person.  But  his  speeches  were  so 
full  of  pith  and  sense,  so  shrewd  and  original  often,  and 
always  so  grand  in  their  intent,  that  if  now  and  then  a  shallow 
hearer  got  full  before  the  speaker  had  emptied  himself,  there 
were  yet  always  listeners  w^ho  wanted  more. 

We  have  room  but  to  suggest  another  thought.  It  was  one 
of  the  lo\  ely  traits  of  this  great  and  good  man  that  age  soft- 
ened and  sweetened  and  enlarged  his  nature.  He  seemed  to 
grow  young  in  charitable  feeling  year  by  year.  His  thoughts 
ever  fresher,  his  sympathies  ever  broader  and  more  benignant. 
Nobody  could  suspect  a  tinge  of  octogenarism  in  his  vivacious 
and  sparkling  essays,  or  in  the  shrewd  sense  w^hich  fell  from  his 
lips.  He  was  afraid  of  nothing  simply  because  it  was  new,  and 
he  clung  to  few  things  simply  l)ecause  they  were  old. 

Fi'om  the  days  of  John  Cotton  and  flohn  Davenport,  and 
Increase  and  C^otton  Mather,  and  John  AVise  and  Jonathan 
Edwards  and  Ezra  Stiles,  and  Timothy  Dwight  and  Lyman 
Beecher,  and  their  illustrious  compeers,  until  now,  there  have 
been  many  mighty  names  written  in  the  annals  of  the  ( 'ongre- 
gational  churches  of  New  England.  In  our  judgment  it  admits 
of  doubt  whether  the  future,  far  enough  to  discriminate  fairly, 
will  read  therein  any  in  all  aspects,  and  for  all  which  it  sug- 
gests, more  honored  and  more  beloved,  than  that  of  him  whom 
now  we  moui'ii. 


[Fh'oM  THE  CIIRLSTIAy   UNION.] 


LEONARD    BACON,    D.D. 


The  (leatli  of  Dr.  Bacon,  in  tlie  eightieth  year  of  his 
age,  occurred  at  New  Haven,  his  home  for  fifty-seven  years,  on 
Saturday,  December  24tli.  It  was  apparently  not  altogether  a 
surprise  to  his  friends;  but  it  was  wholly  unexpected  by  the 
public. 

Dr.  Bacon  was  a  born  soldier.  He  loved  a  l)attle  :  not  as  a 
Duke  of  Alva  but  as  a  Chevalier  Bayard  ;  not  for  its  carnage 
but  foi'  its  courage.  Controversy  brings  out  truth  clearly  ;  it 
brushes  away  the  c(jl)webs  which  spiders  spin  over  the  fine 
glass  in  an  undisturbed  room.  Dr.  Bacon  loved  truth,  and  c(jn- 
troversy  because  it  clarifies  ti'uth.  He  was  born  into  a  stormy 
time  and  was  fitted  for  it.  He  was  a  natural  captain,  not  be- 
cause of  his  executive  ability,  to  organize  and  wield  men  in 
solid  l)attalions,  but  because  of  that  contagious  courage  which 
always  inspires  followers  though  they  know  not  whither  they 
are  being  led.  Wherever,  during  the  last  half  century,  a  bat- 
tle has  raged  for  human  I'ight  and  welfare,  there  the  white 
])lume  of  this  Henry  of  Navarre  of  theology  has  ])een  seen, 
and  there  followers  have  streamed  after  him.  But  they  have 
always  been  volunteers ;  with  them  he  never  held  council  (»f 
war  beforehand,  to  them  he  never  issued  congratulatory  bulle- 
tins afterward.  Never  Avas  man  more  courageous  ;  he  counted 
neither  the  host  that  opposed  nor  the  recruits  that  followed. 
He   was  e(|ually  ready  to  sally  against   the  enemy  with   tliree 


24<»  l-K()NAR])    KACOK. 

hiiiidred  unarmed  volunteers,  or  to  ij;o  up  against  them  with 
only  an  armor  bearer,  or  to  try  their  champion  alone,  with  but 
a  shepherd's  sling.  And  he  knew  how  to  take  the  champion's 
sword  to  slay  him  with. 

Never  was  man  more  absolutely  truthful  ;  more  supremely 
indifferent  whether  the  truth  hurt  or  helped  his  cause  or  his 
party.  Indeed,  his  cause  was  always  the  cause  of  truth,  and 
party  he  had  none.  He  was  always  prompt  to  turn  his  trench- 
ant satire  upon  the  friend  and  follower  of  yesterday,  if  to-day 
the  friend  and  follower  seemed  to  him  to  be  false  to  the  truth 
of  God.  He  was  quite  as  fearless  an  anti-slavery  man  as 
William  Lloyd  (larrison  ;  but  was  as  (piick  to  criticise  the 
spirit  and  methods  of  the  anti-slavery  reformers  as  to  assault 
the  conservatism  that  praised  or  palliated  or  pardoned  slavery. 
He  was  the  relentless  foe  of  the  liquor  traffic,  and  e(|ually  of 
the  false  philosophy  that  hopes  to  eradicate  it  by  a  statute. 
He  was  a  leader  among  C^ongregationalists ;  but  (-ongrega- 
tionalists  were  always  afraid  of  him  lest  he  should  out  with 
some  unpalatable  truth  of  history  or  Biblical  interpretation,  or 
philosophical  principle  that  the  enemy  could  quote  against 
their  ism.  No  truth  could  he  ever  l)e  counted  on  to  conceal 
for  party  ends  or  personal  triumph.  Neither  personal  friend- 
ship nor  party  interest  ever  muddled  the  clearness  of  his  vision 
or  deflected  the  simplicity  of  his  purpose.  In  the  hour  of  Mi-. 
Beecher's  adversity  he  was  at  once  his  warmest  friend  and  his 
sharpest  critic.  He  never  deserted  and  lie  never  flattered  a 
friend  ;  he  never  surrendered  to  and  he  never  maltreated  an 
enemy.  To  him  no  end  was  sacred  that  foul  means  need  serve. 
If  he  took  a  pleasurable  pride  in  his  stalwart  independence, 
this  was  a  pardonable  weakness,  if  it  were  a  weakness  ;  would 
that  more  ministers  had  it ! 

He  belonged  to  the  best  type  of  Puritan  stock.  The  Puri- 
tan, like  the  Hebrew,  regarded  practical  righteousness  as  the 
consummation  of  religion.  For  a  piety  that  produced  nothing 
but  prayers  and  penances  the  Hebrew  prophet  and  the  New 
England  preacher  had  a  common  and  a  healthy  contempt. 
Dr.  Bacon  was  essentially  a  Puritan  ])reacher ;  a  Hebrew 
prophet.  In  the  pulpit,  on  the  themes  too  commonly  dis- 
cussed in  tlie  desk,  lie  was  not  more  interesting  than  a  thoiisniid 


r,K()NARI)    l5.\(OX.  241 

iiaiiH'le>s  and  uiikiiuwii  r(.'acli('r>  nf  rlu'()l(»iiv.  lie  had  no  arts 
(»f  rhetoric  or  elocution  with  which  to  divss  uj)  a  scholastic 
lecture;  lie  was  no  skillful  shopman,  to  make  a  wire  skeleton 
l(»ok  like  a  woniau,  \)\  the  aid  of  cloak  and  bonnet;  hut  when 
linmanitv  was  concerned,  wlien  truth  was  desecrated  in  its 
sacred  temple,  when  the  slave  power  attempted  to  gag  the 
American  pidpit,  and  did  for  a  time  gag  the  great  representa- 
tive religious  bodies,  every  fibre  of  his  heroic  soul  was  aroused, 
and  he  thundered  out  his  denunciation  of  the  double  wrong 
that  enslaved  a  Northern  ministry  tliat  it  might  enslave  a 
Southern  black,  with  an  elo<|uence  that  needed  no  rhetoric  or 
elocution  to  com})el  a  hearing.  It  was  a  significant  fact  tliat 
his  last  act  Mas  the  composition  (^f  an  unfinished  pa]>er  on  the 
Ftah  problem.  He  worked  to  the  last  for  man.  Wif/>  God, 
for  man  :  in  these  four  words  are  to  l)e  found  the  secret  of  hit^ 
courage  and  his  pt»wer. 

We  make  no  attempt  to  tell  the  story  of  his  life.  To  do 
this  it  would  be  necessary  to  write  the  history  of  his  country. 
His  first  parish  was  his  last  one ;  he  was  ordained,  lived,  and 
died  in  New  Haven.  But  America  was  his  pulpit,  and  her 
people  his  congregation  ;  and  there  was  not  a  theme  which 
concerned  her  prosperity  which  his  incessantly  active  mind  did 
not  study,  and  upon  which  his  ever  vigorous  voice  and  pen  did 
not  do  some  effective  teaching.  He  made  some  mistakes  ; 
most  men  do.  But  there  was  no  theme  on  which  he  did  not 
court  free  thought,  and  none  on  which  he  ever  proved  recreant 
to  his  own  eonvicti(ms  of  the  truth. 


[FROM  THE  RELI6I0V8  HERALD:\ 


DR.  BACON  AND  DR.  BUSHNELL. 


By  Rev.  N.  H.  Bgleston. 


More  and  more  as  time  passes,  we  shall  feel  that  in  the  death 
( >f  Dr.  Bacon  a  great  man  has  gone  from  among  us.  If  great 
natnral  and  acquired  powers  devoted  to  great  and  worthy  ends 
constitnte  greatness,  he  was  a  great  man.  And  now  as  we  look 
])ack  upon  his  life  as  a  whole,  we  can  hardly  help  coupling  him 
in  our  thoughts  with  another  great  man,  his  contemporary,  who 
has  preceded  him  only  a  little  while  to  the  other  world.  Born 
in  the  same  year  as  T)r.  Bushnell,  and  for  some  time  also  a  resi- 
dent of  Hartford,  to  which  city  he  was  also  l)Ound  hy  the  tie  of 
his  father's  grave  which  is  there,  and  l)y  a  happy  marriage,  there 
are  many  points  of  resemblance  between  the  two,  while  yet 
they  were  so  diiferently  constituted  that  they  were  led  into 
fields  of  labor  and  usefulness  quite  unlike.  They  were  so  akin 
in  spirit  and  character  that  they  cherished  a  profound  respect 
and  a  warnj  attachment  to  each  otlier  through  life.  In  the 
days  of  his  persecution,  Vi\\  Bushnell  could  count  upon  T)r. 
Bacon  as  one  of  his  steadfast  friends,  and  whenever  he  pub- 
lished a  new  book,  Dr.  Bacon  was  one  of  the  few  whose  opin- 
ion in  regard  to  it  he  cared  to  know.  And  what  a  tril)ute, 
coming  from  such  a  man,  was  that  which  Dr.  Bacon  paid  to 
Dr.  Bushnell  at  New  Haven,  soon  after  the  death  of  the  latter, 
when  he  declared  that  his  extraordinary  achievements  made 
him  and  others  like  him  ashamed  because  in  comparison  they 
had  done  so  little. 


l,K(»N.\KMi    llAiOX,  24.") 

l!(irli  wvvv  i;ivat  i)rcaclicrs.  yet  very  unlike  as  [n-eaclierH. 
In  I)r.  IJusliiiell  the  iniaijinative  faculty  was  niucli  nioiv  larj^ely 
developed  than  in  Dr.  r>acon,  tli(>iii«;h  in  the  hitter  it  was  by 
no  means  laekin^',  hut  in  Dr.  Hnshnell  it  was  tlie  leading,  dom- 
inant faenltv,  while  in  Dr.  Baeon  it  held  a  snhordinate  ])lace. 
As  a  preacher.  Dr.  IJacon  while  nevei"  weak  or  coninion-place 
and  always  instrnctixe.  seldom  rose  to  heights  of  great  impres- 
si\eness  except  as  great  occasions  came  to  him.  T)r.  Bushnell 
made  his  own  occasions,  and  they  came  with  almost  every  Sab- 
batli  that  he  met  his  eager  and  e.\])ectant  congregation. 

Dr.  Bushnell's  mind  was  original  and  creative,  Dr.  Bacon's 
fed  and  grew  in  the  fields  of  fact.  The  mind  of  Dr.  Bushnell 
was  speculative,  intuitional,  al)Slract.  That  of  Dr.  Bacon  was 
analytical  and  nicely  discriminative,  and  dealt  largely  with  the 
concrete.  Dr.  liacon  was  a  student  of  men.  Dr.  Bushnell 
was  a  student  of  man.  Tlie  former  was  a  large  reader  in  many 
fields  of  knowledge.  Dr.  T>ushnell  was  more  a  thinker  than  a 
reader.  Bather,  perhaps  it  should  be  said  that  the  one  read,  and 
on  the  basis  of  his  reading  thought  wisely  and  well,  while  the 
other  thought  out  his  conclusions  first,  and  then  read  to  some 
extent  to  see  how  far  he  agreed  or  disagreed  with  those  who 
had  gone  before  him.  Both  were  independent  in  their  think- 
ing. They  called  no  man  master.  They  brought  every  opinion 
fearlessly  to. the  bar  of  their  own  individual  judgment.  But 
the  mind  of  Dr.  Bacon  was  historic.  It  was  a  rich  storehouse 
of  facts  out  of  which,  as  all  know,  he  continually  brought 
treasures  new  and  old,  to  illustrate  any  subject  that  might  be 
under  discussion.  While  both  were  eqnally  of  large  mold  and 
kept  themselves  acquainted  witli  the  work  of  the  world  around 
them  in  all  its  departments  of  activity,  Dr.  Bacon  lived  much 
in  the  past.  He  was  at  home  with  the  worthies  of  other  times, 
and  ever  ready  to  compare  the  past  with  the  present  and  to 
draw^  lessons  from  the  one  for  the  guidance  of  the  other.  Dr. 
Bushnell,  while  living  in  the  present  and  intensely  engaged  in 
its  work,  had  an  eye  ever  looking  towards  the  future  and  was 
always  linking  the  two  together. 

Dr.  Bushnell  was  a  leader  of  thought,  Dr.  Bacon  of  action. 
The  one  affected  nien  in  their  inward  convictions  and  feelings, 
the  other  in  their  practical  determinations.     The  one  was  the 


244  LEONARD    BACON. 

uiau  of  ideas,  the  other  the  man  of  alfairs.  The  fonner  was 
little  seen  beyond  the  limits  of  his  own  parish.  His  face  was 
not  familiar  to  the  world.  He  was  seldom  seen  on  platforms 
or  in  conventions.  He  touched  the  world  from  his  pulpit  and 
with  his  pen.  Dr.  Bacon,  it  may  almost  be  said,  was  known  as 
well  outside  of  his  parish  as  within  it.  If  the  pulpit  w^as  the 
throne  of  Dr.  Bushnell,  the  platfoi-m  was  Dr.  Bacon's.  There 
he  reigned  supreme.  If  as  a  preacher  Dr.  Bushnell  had  few 
equals,  on  the  rostrum  Dr.  Bacon  had  no  superior.  As  a  leader 
of  assemblies  he  was  unsurpassed.  As  a  debater  on  occasions 
of  interest  he  never  met  the  antagonist  by  wdiom  he  was  van- 
quished. At  ordinary  times  and  in  other  places  one  of  the 
most  quiet  and  inconspicuous  of  men,  in  conventions  and  coun- 
cils, and  when  important  (juestions  were  pressing  for  decision, 
then  the  grand  qualities  and  characteristics  of  tlie  man  ap- 
peared. He  came  into  the  field  of  debate  like  the  line-of -battle 
ship  of  some  great  admiral,  ports  all  open  and  heavy  guns 
pouring  forth  their  thundering  broadsides,  uow  on  the  right 
and  now  on  the  left,  while  from  the  main-top  and  cross-trees 
muskets  and  grenades  wei'e  aiding  by  their  lighter  but  co(')pera- 
tive  work.  Then  all  the  treasures  of  his  historic  reading 
came  forth  at  his  bidding  to  make  his  arguments  massive  and 
weighty  with  illustrative  fact  or  warning  example,  while  an 
exhaustless  memory  and  a  kindled  fancy  illumined  and  enli- 
vened the  whole  with  apt  (piotation  and  pithiest  anecdote. 

Dr.  Bacon  was  eminently  a  leader  of  men.  And  this  he  was 
not  simply  or  mainly  because  of  his  peculiar  native  or  accpiired 
powers,  but  because  he  was  devoted  to  truth  and  led  by  it.  In 
this  again  the  two  of  whom  we  have  been  speaking  were  alike. 
They  both  sought  truth  for  themselves  as  their  chief  treasure, 
and  as  the  chief  treasure  for  man.  And  so  while  both  were 
great  leaders  of  men,  though  in  different  ways  and  by  different 
methods,  they  were  not  partisans.  They  were  too  broad 
minded  and  too  loyal  to  the  truth  to  be  mere  leaders  of  a  sect 
or  a  party.  Acting  with  j)arties  and  lending  theii-  aid  to 
])arties  so  long  as  they  advocate  truth,  whenever  they  failed  to 
do  so  they  were  ready  to  denounce  and  forsake  them.  In  this 
they  never  took  counsel  of  Hesh  and  blood.  What  would 
harm  or  benefit  them  ))ersonally,  they  never  seem  to  ha\e  con- 


I.KOXAin)    BACON.  24r) 

sidered.  NcitluT  of  tlieiii  looktMl  ai'diiiid  t(t  sec  wIki  were 
ready  to  follow  oi  support  tliein,  nor  after  a  eoiiHiet  did  tliey 
put  oil  airs  of  ti-iuiiipli.  Their  \ictorv  was  (-iod's,  not  their 
own,  and  triunii)h  rather  Iniinhled  than  elated  them.  They 
walked  in  (iod's  ii'reat  ])resence  as  little  children. 

They  were  alike,  again,  in  that  greatness  of  character  whicli 
is  above  the  manifestation  of  condescension  to  others.  In 
their  interconrse  with  them  they  never  left  the  impression 
upon  others  that  they  regarded  themselves  as  their  snperiors. 
They  ne\er  tied  their  white  cravats  with  self-complacent 
admiration,  nor  were  careful  of  their  "semi-lunar  fardels," 
The  young  preacher,  timid  and  self -distrustful,  could  take 
them  freely  by  the  hand.  Rather  would  they  anticipate  his 
advances,  and  put  him  at  once  at  ease  and  on  terms  of  equality 
with  them,  (xentle  and  forbearing,  yet  faithful  in  their  criti- 
.cisms  of  their  younger  brethren,  they  were  too  many  in  their 
novitiate  fellow-helpers  indeed.  The  writer,  for  o7ie,  can  never 
cease  to  feel  his  obligations  to  both  for  their  companionship 
and  counsel  in  the  days  of  youth  and  inexperience.  He 
learned  too,  in  assuming  the  charge  of  the  Center  C^hurch  dur- 
ing Dr,  Bacon's  absence  in  Europe  and  the  farther  East,  what 
he  could  not  have  done  otherwise,  how  he  had  bound  that 
church  to  himself  by  cords  of  esteem  and  affection  which 
only  death  could  sever,  nay,  by  such  as  reach  within  the  veil. 

(Treat  men  !  Great  blessings  to  the  world  !  We  miss  them, 
and  shall  miss  them.  We  shall  feel  the  need  of  them  at  times, 
and  perhaps  forget  that  God  never  creates  a  vacancy  that  he 
does  not  also  Ull.  But  their  work  remains,  both  in  their  pnb- 
lished  words  on  our  shelves  and  in  what  they  have  wrought 
into  our  personal  life  and  institutions.  Our  theology,  our 
( 'hristology,  are  the  better,  the  more  consonant  with  both 
reason  and  Scripture,  for  the  thought  that  Dr.  Bushnell  has 
given  them.  Our  ecclesiastical  life  is  less  bigoted,  broader,  less 
sectarian  and  more  truly  Christian  for  what  T)r.  Ikcon  has 
written  and  spoken.  The  great  foreign  and  home  missionary 
operations  of  our  denomination,  if  not  more,  have  been  quick- 
ened in  their  activity  and  augmented  in  their  ])ower  by  his 
zealous  acti^^ty  in  their  ])ehalf.  Our  social  life,  our  morals 
and   our  ])olitics  throughout   the   land   have  felt  the  beneficial 


246  LEONARD    BACON. 

touch  of  his  wakeful  interest  in  every  thing  good.  Only  two 
days  before  his  death,  as  the  anniversary  of  the  landing  of  the 
Pilgrims  came  round  again,  for  how  many  patriotic  and  Chris- 
tion  hearts  did  his  Pilgrim  hymn  beginning,  ''  O  God,  beneath 
thy  guiding  hand,"  voice  theii'  feelings  anew  and  help  to 
(piicken  their  appreciation  of  that  great  event. 

And  his  last  work,  on  the  following  day,  was  an  endeavor  to 
aid  in  removing  that  great  blot  upon  onr  national  character, 
that  cancer  in  our  social  life,  the  Moniion  inicjuity.  So  he 
died  with  his  harness  on. 

Soldier  of  Christ,  well  done ! 

Praise  be  thy  new  employ ; 
And  while  eternal  ages  run. 

Rest  in  thy  Saviour's  joy. 
Willianif^town.  Mass. 


IFUoM  Till-:  advance:] 


DR.    LEONARD    BACON 


By  Prof.  Jamks  T.   Hyde. 


His  siuldeii  death  moves  the  whole  comiiiuiiity  at  New  fla- 
veii  profoTiudly.  The  patriarcli  of  tlie  ("onnecticiit  ministry, 
the  living  enihodiment  of  the  history  of  Yale  College  and  of 
the  Xew  England  churches,  the  keen  critic  and  brilliant  debater 
of  public  affairs  for  more  than  fifty  years,  the  ardent  agitator 
and  vigor<jus  reformer,  the  voluminous  author,  the  witty  and 
versatile  editor,  the  skilful  theological  teacher,  the  catholic, 
progressive  thinker,  the  exuberant,  irrepressible,  and  entertain- 
ing talker,  who  has  contril)uted  so  much  to  the  social,  literary, 
ecclesiastical,  national  life  of  our  day,  just  as  he  was  rounding 
out  his  eightieth  year,  fell  asleep.  The  night  before  he  died 
he  was  writing  in  hope  of  solving  the  much  vexed  Mormon 
prol)lem,  and  entered  in  his  diary  (I  am  told)  "Xearly  finished 
the  article.''  The  day  l)efore  he  was  A\Titing;  two  days  before 
he  lectured  ;  three  days  l)efore  he  attended  a  faculty  meeting ; 
on  the  Sunday  previous  he  attended  church  and  gave  out  the 
notices;  within  a  month  he  preached  at  Thanksgiving  and 
administered  the  Lord's  Supper  in  the  one  church  of  which  he 
was  the  life-long  and  devoted  Pastor,  So  intense  was  his  vital- 
ity and  so  preeminent  his  serviceableness  to  the  very  end. 

On  Christmas  morning  I  attended  the  Center  Church,  which 
was  only  too  heavily  draped  with  mourning.     The  holy  day 


248  LEONARD    RACOX. 

seemed  to  l>c  shrouded  with  soleiuuity,  grief  and  glouin.  But 
with  an  excellent  sermon  from  Prof.  Barbour  on  the  sympathy 
of  Clirist  in  his  incarnation,  with  exquisite  singing  of  "I  would 
not  live  away,"  and  of  an  "In  Memoriam"  reqniem,  with  many 
precious  and  tearful  memories  of  the  serene  and  joyous  faith 
and  lively  companionship  of  the  venerable  num  who  had  gone 
up  into  his  heavenly  rest  and  eternal  ministry  at  God's  right 
hand,  we  were  able  to  preserve  some  little  spark  even  of  spirit- 
ual hilarity  on  the  bright  and  festive  day,  in  spite  of  its  oppres- 
sive sadness.  How  thankful  we  ought  to  be  that  such  good 
men,  after  outliving  all  their  asperities  and  ripening  in  all  their 
Christian  graces, — the  heroes  of  so  many  bitter,  earnest,  hard- 
fought  and  victorious  conliicts — can  die,  escape  from  sin, 
infirmity,  error,  and  1)e  in  perfect  peace,  and  rise  into  the 
connnunion  of  elect  saints,  sages  and  scholars,  who  are  forever 
with  the  Lord ! 

On  Tuesday  afternoon  he  was  buried.  The  day  was  sadly 
dark  and  wet.  The  church  was  lighted  almost  at  noonday. 
By  special  request  there  were  no  iloral  tributes.  A  heavy 
sheaf  of  wheat  stood  on  the  large  comnnmion  table.  The 
severely  simple  tastes  of  this  honored  champion  of  Puritan 
principles  were  strictly  observed.  TTis  face  looked  somewhat 
fuller  than  in  former  years,  but  wore  a  striking  and  rigid  luit- 
uralness.  lie  smiled  with  a  stern  ehxjuence  that  seemed  ready 
to  break  from  mute  lips.  The  wonder  was  that  his  brain 
rested,  his  heart  was  quiet,  his  hands  kept  still.  l)Ut  he  had 
only  been  stopped  by  that  angina  pectoris  which  caught  him  at 
daybreak  on  Saturday  with  its  secret  and  sudden  grip. 

The  revered  and  beloved  ex-President  Woolsey,  now  an  octo- 
genarian. Dr.  Bacon's  college  class-mate  and  very  long  neighljor 
as  well  as  friend,  felt  unable  to  officiate  in  the  public  l)urial 
service,  but  prayed  Math  the  bereaved  family  at  the  house. 
The  father  of  fourteen  children,  four  of  whom  becauie  (/hris- 
tian  ministers,  was  borne  by  the  hands  of  six  sons  to  the  sanct- 
uary where  he  had  ])reached  siuce  iS^f),  and  his  j)astor;d  rela- 
tion could  be  dissolved  only  by  death. 

As  his  Congregatioualisiii  was  sinq)ly  Christianity,  his  very 
silence  called  a  multitude  of  e\ery  Chi-istiiUi  name  to  ])ay  him 
their   last   offices  of   res])ect,  ;idmir:ition   and   attection.     They 


l.K()NAI{l)    MACON  24il 

giitluMvd  from  every  quarter  fov  liours.  hy  i-aij  and  wheel,  and 
foot,  under  the  droo]Mno-  skies.  \\\-  went  in  loviiiii-  nieiuory  uf 
liis  departed  sons,  and  of  his  manifold  associatiitn  witli  oui'  own 
de])arted  davs.  We  ivpresented,  too,  with  otliei's,  his  native 
West.  PU'vel's  Ilvmnand  othei"  familial"  aii's  were  playe<l  on 
the  orii'an  in  sweet,  low,  mntHed  strains.  "'Oni'  j-'ather.  who 
art"  in  ilcaxcii"  was  chanted.  Prof.  I'Mshci-  invoked  the  l)less- 
iiio-  of  (iod.  and  read  admirahly  selected  Scriptures.  The 
anthem  followed,  "  Slcc])  thy  last  Sleep.""  Pi'of.  I)wi*;-ht,  who 
when  only  nine  years  old,  was  ahnost  a  member  of  Dr.  Bacon's 
family,  and  had  known  liim  well  for  forty-four  years,  was  the 
iittino;  one  to  make  the  address.  lie  described  his  varied  and 
extraordiuary  powers,  not  in  a  formal  eulogy,  but  with  fine  and 
teuder  discrimination.  Ilis  words  often  (piivered  with  emo- 
tion, especially  when  he  spoke  of  this  "'son  of  thunder'"  in  his 
zeal  for  truth,  liberty,  righteousness,  his  fondness  foi'  contro- 
versy yet  freedom  from  pei'sona!  bitterness,  his  ])atriotism.  his 
pi'ayers  and  hymns,  his  faith  in  young  men,  his  unruttled  har- 
mony with  his  two  colleagues  in  the  ministry,  and  his  colleagues 
in  the  Divinity  School ;  how  much  lie  did  for  New  Haven  ;  how 
after  all  his  conflicts  he  died  without  an  enemy;  how  his  buoy- 
ant and  unwearied  spirit,  still  full  of  work,  must  have  exulted 
in  his  new  experience  of  the  sunlight  of  heaven  ;  how  death  and 
judgment  must  have  been  comprehended  in  the  Father's  wel- 
come to  the  many  mansions,  and  the  holy  greetings  there  with 
kindred  souls,  with  Hooker,  Davenport,  Pierpont,  Brewster, 
with  brethren  in  the  church  and  the  ministry,  with  the  saints, 
heroes  and  martyrs  of  all  ages,  and  with  members  of  his  own 
family  within  the  thin  but  impenetrable  veil — we  were  lost  in 
the  heavenly  vision.  Prof.  Dwight  never  discharged  a  difficult 
and  delicate  duty  with  such  a  delightful  blending  of  propi'iety 
and  pathos. 

After  prayer  with.  Rev.  Dr.  llawes,  of  the  North  Church, 
the  service  closed  with  singing  Dr.  Bacon's  beautiful  liymn, 
"  Hail,  trancpiil  hour  of  closing  day."  His  six  sons  deposited 
his  l)ody-in  the  well-known  cemetery  wliere  sleep  so  maiiv  dis- 
tinguished men  who  have  taken  New^  Haven  on  their  way  to 
heaven. 


{FROM  THE  SPRINGFIELD  REPUBLICAN.^ 


LEONARD    BACON. 


Ill  the  deatli  of  tliat  typical  New  Englander,  Leonard 
Bacon,  a  notalile  iigiire  passes  from  the  stage  of  public  affairs. 
Entering  the  sophomore  class  of  Yale  College  at  the  age  of  15,  in 
the  year  1817,  returning  to  New  Haven  after  his  theological 
course  at  Andover  to  become  Pastor  of  the  Center  C^hurch  at  the 
age  of  23,  continuing  as  active  Pastor  for  41  years,  and  as  Pastor 
emeritus  and  Yale  professor  for  nearly  16  years  more,  JSTew 
Haven  could  not  so  much  miss  any  other  of  her  citizens,  unless 
it  be  his  surviving  classmate,  Theodore  D.  Woolsey.  Far  be- 
yond his  New  Haven  life,  so  closely  interwoven  with  every 
valuable  interest  of  that  city  and  its  nniversity,  he  was  dis- 
tinguished as  one  of  the  foremost  citizens  of  Connecticut  and 
of  the  nation.  Moreover,  in  his  prime  his  inflnence  went 
abroad  to  many  lands,  striking  so  hard  at  the  Vatican  tliat 
Pope  (xregory  XVI  felt  moved  to  issue  a  l)ull  against  one  of 
his  forcible  productions,  at  the  same  time  consigning  it  to  the 
Index  Expurgatorius.  He  was  a  many-sided  man  in  the  best 
sense,  vigorous  and  versatile,  of  a  restless  energy,  affluent  in 
speech,  especially  wlien  i-oused  by  any  exigency  or  opposition, 
ready  in  debate,  keen  and  witty  at  repartee,  a  hard  striker  in 
polemics,  a  lover  of  history  and  specially  well  \'ersed  in  C-on- 
necticut  and  Congregational  lore.  He  was  more  fond  of 
speech-making  than  of  sermonizing,  and  better  skilled  in  the 
foi-nu'i-  than    in    rlic    latter.      He   was  a  ii'ood  talker,  but  not  so 


LKONAKI)    li.U'ON.  :^.>1 

good  a  listener.  His  writing  was  ready,  keen  and  influential, 
and  liis  litenu-v  productivity  was  o-reat.  On  no  point  of  re- 
ligions or  political  interest  did  he  fail  to  express  himself,  in 
]>ani]>hlet,  oi-  generally  in  contribntions  to  magazines  and  news- 
pa})ers,  for  he  had  a  predilection  for  jowrnalism,  and  indeed 
was  the  founder  of  the  Weio  Emilanclei\  a  very  characteristic 
periodical  still  in  thiMfty  condition.  Dr.  Bacoji  had  the  qual- 
ities of  a  statesman,  and  was  only  hindered  from  being  active 
and  distinguished  in  that  line  by  his  professional  limitations. 
He  was  a. molding  power  over  many  beneficent  institutions. 
The  American  Board  of  Foreign  Missions  and  kindred  societies 
sought  his  counsel.  Yale  College  in  all  its  departments  felt  his 
]ilastic  force  for  half  a  century,  from  the  pulpit  and  the  pro- 
fessor's chair,  in  the  corporation,  through  his  ready  and  pi-oduc- 
tive  pen,  and  not  the  least  in  his  personal  and  commanding 
presence.  He  was  an  acknowledged  power  in  Congregational 
councils,  having  presided  over  the  two  most  famous  in  recent 
times  at  Brooklyn,  with  Henry  Ward  Beecher  and  Plynumth 
Church  for  their  C(isus  helli^ — each  a  neutralizing  force. 
AVliether  or  not  Dr.  Bacon  was  (piite  willing  to  have  it  so, 
whether  he  was  anxious  to  have  the  truth  appear  or  content 
Mith  the  issue  of  disagreement,  remain  open  questions  as  much 
as  his  inward  convictions  concerning  the  main  })oint  of  Mr. 
J^eecher's  guilt  or  innocence  which  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the 
ecclesiastical  proceedings. 

Diplomatic  in  his  nature,  he  was  never  hindered  by  any 
pride  of  consistency  from  changing  his  opinion.  He  was  at 
first  conservative  on  the  slavery  question,  l)ut  afterward,  and 
not  too  late,  progressive,  and  powerfully  so.  Impulsive  and 
aggi"essive  though  his  temperament  was,  he  had  a  singular 
mental  mastery  that  poised  the'  coldest  reasoning  with  tlie 
warmest  feeling,  and  often  made  his  attitude  perplexing  and 
his  opinion  provokingly  double-edged. 

Leonard  Bacon  has  largely  transmitted  of  his  best  qualities 
to  his  children,  diffusing  them  much  as  Lyman  Beecher's  were 
among  his  notal)le  family.  Six  sons  and  two  grandsons  are 
recorded  in  the  triennial  catalogues  of  Yale,  and  several  of 
these  have  taken  leading  positions  in  the  ministry  and  other 
pi'ofessioiis  :  perha])s  T^'oiiard  Woolsey  Haeon.  minister  of  Xor- 


'2b-2  LEONARD    BACON. 

wicli,  is  tlie  most  prominent  and  temperamentally  the  most  like 
liim.  His  (laug-liter,  Tiebecea,  was  an  ardent  pliilanthi-opist, 
and  devoted  some  of  her  best  rears  to  the  education  of  the 
freedmen. 

Dr.  Bacon's  personal  mien  and  port  were  strikingly  expres- 
sive of  his  inner  man.  Slight  l)nt  agile,  a  little  stooping,  his 
massive  head  well  set  npon  shoulders  proportionately  broad  ;  a 
noble,  projecting  brow,  keen,  searching  eyes  of  bluish  gray, 
l)ut  kindling  in  his  best  moods  into  a  fiery  luster,  his  lips 
oftener  compressed  with  iii'mness  than  mobile  with  gentleness, 
the  bushy  masses  of  gray  hair  giving  a  leonine  setting  to  his 
thoughtful  and  eager  face  ;  always  the  dress-coat  and  white 
neck-cloth,  inseparable  from  his  clerically  neat  but  never  stiff 
apparel  ;  there  was  in  his  tout  ensemhle  the  bearing  of  a  gentle- 
man, the  self-possession  of  a  native  leader,  the  alertness  of  one 
always  ready  for  his  opportunity,  and  the  cultured  presence 
that  marks  the  man  both  of  letters  and  affairs. 

Tie  had  the  "  Abraham  Davenport"  loyalty  to  present  duty 
and  his  daily  task,  which  would  not  have  faltered  though  the 
last  trump  had  begun  to  sound.  Full  well  he  knew  that  his 
days  were  numbered,  and  that  the  end  was  nigh.  Many  a 
time  had  he  heard  the  footfall  of  the  messenger  at  the  door, 
when  his  heart  beat  with  the  keen  distress  of  angina  pectoris, 
— and  .  sometimes  as  he  sat  in  his  professorial  chair.  But  he 
still  went  to  and  fro  about  his  work,  calmly  and. steadily  to  the 
last,  in  the  sweet  and  full  assurance  of  his  Christian  faith  and 
his  strong  and  manly  nature.  He  had  lectured  twice  during 
the  week  he  died,  and  left  upon  his  study  table  an  unfinished 
work  of  the  previous  day, — a  paper  relating  to  the  Mormon 
(piestion. 

He  was  the  normal  growth  of  the  very  best  New  England 
training,  sturdily  Puritan,  and  yet  not  narrow^ed  by  his  niarked 
proclivities  into  a  provincial  thinker,  woy  enduttered  by  his 
many  controversies  toward  any  of  his  opponents.  As  a  (Vm- 
gregationalist,  in  all  matters  of  form,  polity,  and  executive 
develo]mient,  he  was  broad  and  flexible,  always  keeping  the 
future  open.  None  knew  better  than  he  "  the  former  days," 
and  none  more  strenuously  denied  their  claim  to  be  better 
than   these.     Old   measures  that  had  outlived  their  usefulness 


i.KONAin)  HAcoN.  25:^ 

he  tossed  aside.  I'lvcedeiits,  like  councils,  in  his  view  hud  no 
more  autlioritv  than  proceeds  from  the  reason  that  is  in  them. 
Like  the  war  horse  described  by  Job,  he  smelt  the  battle  afar 
off,  and  whenever  in  any  Avortliy  cause  there  was  a  good 
chance  for  a  free  tight,  waited  not  for  an  invitation  to  be 
"counted  in."  Always  a  man  to  listen  to,  lie  was  never  a 
man  t(»  "tie  to"  without  ivconsideration.  ^  et  never  a  tii-e 
that  he  lielped  to  kindle,  but  enough  light  proceeded  from  it 
to  warrant  the  couHagratiou.  There  are  but  few  such  men  for 
hunum  welfai'e  in  any  century  as  Leonard  IJacon,  and  thei'e- 
fore  it  becomes  our  privilege  to  give  due  honor  to  liis  veuej'a- 
ble  name. 


18 


IFBOM  THE  NEW  IIA  VEJV  REGISTER.^ 


ABOUT    LEONARD    BACON. 


( )ne  of  the  few  surviving  classmates  of  Rev.  Dr.  Bacon  says 
lie  was  an  excellent  scholar  while  in  college,  bnt  that  he  did  not 
give  the  promise  of  the  high  position  he  afterward  attained. 
Such  a  man  as  ex-President  Woolsey  rose  way  above  him  in 
intellect.  The  appointment  secured  l)y  Dr.  Bacon,  was  a  dis- 
pute. He  made  no  special  effort  in  the  way  of  English  com- 
position, nor  did  he  indulge  much  in  iield  sport,  although  he 
always  managed  to  maintain  a  healthy  physical  organization. 
He  was  always  a  (Christian.  His  object  in  going  to  college 
was  to  fit  himself  for  the  ministry.  Constantly  in  his  mind 
was  the  image  of  his  mother,  then  still  living,  but  revered  as 
though  a  saint  in  heaven.  One  of  the  earliest  recollections 
concerning  him  is  the  wonderful  manner  in  which  he  extem- 
porized in  prayer.  This  was  as  marked  a  characteristic  as  in 
after  life.  The  goodness  and  tenderness  of  his  petitions  sank 
deeply  into  the  hearts  of  his  hearers.  The  employment  of  wit 
and  sarcasm  was  first  noticeal)le  in  his  speech  M'hen  a  collegian, 
but  there  was  no  evil  in  them.  He  used  these  elements  of 
power  afterward  very  etfectually  in  his  colonization  and  anti- 
slavery  speeches.  Immediately  after  his  graduation  here  he 
went  to  Andover  to  pursue  a  theological  training.  There  he 
stood  the  hiirhest  amono;  the  students  and  first  broua'ht  himself 


1,K()NAI{I»    HACoN.  ^^55 

into  notice.  When  in  his  second  or  third  veai"  lie  startled  tlie 
seniinai'v  l)v  I'eading  a  paper  npon  tlie  scheme  of  coh)ni/,ation. 
Tlien  was  manifested  tor  tlie  tirst  time  liis  <ijreat  j)ower  (»\ei' 
men.  An  eye-witness  says  it  swei)t  ovei*  tlie  audience  like  the 
wind  over  the  (X'ean.  The  result  was  that  he  and  another 
young  man  were  sent  as  delegates  to  the  American  ('Olonization 
Society. 

The  colonization  scheme  was  not  to  till  the  border  tStates  with 
immigrants,  but  to  send  the  free  colored  people  to  Africa  and 
there  found  a  re])nl)lic.  Tn  this  way  philanthropists  thought  to 
remove  them  from  the  prejudices  of  the  southern  whites  and 
tend  to\vard  the  extinction  of  slavery.  A  large  number  of 
colored  men  were  sent  away,  and  the  republic  of  Libena,  which 
is  still  in  existence,  was  founded.  To  this  end  Dr.  Bacon's 
agitation,  begun  at  Andover,  and  continued  through  many 
years,  contributed  not  a  little.  It  was  in  this  way  that  he  began 
his  anti-slavery  proceedings.  Tie  did  not  agree  with  (larrison's 
methods.  Anti-slavery  was  that  reformer's  Avar  cry,  no  matter 
what  the  consequences.  If  anything  could  be  said  against 
slavery,  truthful  or  not,  the  Garrisonites  accepted  it.  To  this 
Dr.  Bacon  objected.  It  was  said  by  (iarrison  that  the  southern 
whites  favored  colonization  because  they  wished  to  weed  out 
the  free  colored  people  from  contact  with  their  slave  institu- 
tions. Because  of  this  southei-n  favor  he  opposed  it  bitterly, 
and  urged  that  it  was  not  by  any  means  a  philanthropic  idea 
on  the  part  of  its  nortliern  su])porters,  but  rather  an  insidious 
movement  against  slavery.  Despite  Oarrison,  however,  it 
nourished.  In  his  anti-slavery  discussions  Dr.  Bacon  used  his 
wit  and  sarcasm  <|uite  effectively.  ''  We  all  have  prejudices,'' 
he  said,  "  some  are  prejudiced  against  a  black  skin,  some  against 
a  black  coat."  There  is  no  doubt  that  his  essays  had  great 
iniluence  on  President  Lincoln.  "  They  could  not  help  having 
that,'"'  said  a  classmate  last  night.  "  That  must  be  the  case  with 
any  one  who  reads  them." 

It  was  a  cardinal  princi])le  with  the  Center  church  to  select 
for  their  Pastor  a  young  man  who  had  never  been  settled  any- 
where. They  chose  from  among  the  men  of  promise.  Moses 
Stuart  w-as  obtained  in  this  way,  and  the  wise  judgment  of  the 
church  people  was  j)roved  by  his  rapid  growth   as  an  ehxjuent 


256  LEONARD    BACON. 

man  of  God  and  pillar  of  the  church.  Andover,  with  her  eye 
open  to  the  main  chance,  and  with  a  sufficiency  of  funds,  called 
him  away.  Dr.  Taylor  was  then  selected,  and  again  the  wis- 
dom of  the  selection  was  shown.  lie  went  to  Yale.  Then,  as 
his  successor — what  bold  young  man  could  consider  the  situa- 
tion without  trembling? — the  church  tixed  upon  Leonard  Ba- 
con, aged  23,  hardly  a  year  f^^om  the  seminary.  He  preached 
some  weeks  as  a  candidate.  One  of  his  sermons  attracted  great 
attention.  It  had  for  its  subject,  "  The  Government  of  God," 
and  was  based  on  the  text,  "  Thy  commandment  is  exceeding 
broad."  This  was  the  beginning  of  his  great  hold  upon  the 
Center  church. 

During  the  decade  ending  with  1840  there  was  a  long  and 
acrimonious  controversy  between  Dr.  Taylor  of  the  New 
Haven  school  of  theologians  and  Dr.  Tyler  of  the  old  school. 
It  had  been  in  progress  some  time  when  Dr.  Bacon  entered 
the  lists.  "  He  was  not  a  controversialist,"  said  a  classmate'  last 
evening,  "  but  rather  a  queller  of  controversies.  His  action  in 
the  Taylor-Tyler  controversy  will  explain  what  I  mean.  He 
was  a  sturdy  defender  of  his  principles,  having  great  moral 
courage,  No  other  kind  of  courage  was  called  into  play  but 
he  had  it."  The  doctor  had  been  in  the  habit  of  publishing 
pamphlets  upon  live  (piestions.  He  called  them  "•  Views  and 
Reviews."  In  one  he  poured  oil  on  the  troubled  waters  of  the 
Taylor  dispute  by  pointing  out  that  the  schools  agreed  on  twen- 
ty-six points.  As  tliese  more  than  covered  the  essential  facts  of 
the  Christian  religion  he  thought  lighting  ought  to  cease.  This 
article  was  so  successful  that  nothing  more  was  heard  from 
either  side.  In  assemblies  and  consociations  he  would  always 
endeavor  to  reconcile  differences.  Even  as  a  presiding  officer 
of  ecclesiastical  councils  his  tact  as  a  peace-maker  was  used  to 
great  advantage.  Once  it  was  proposed  to  call  a  Metliodist 
clergyman  to  a  r^)ngregational  pulpit,  and  a  council  was  held, 
at  which  some  brother  raised  a  cpiestion  about  a  Methodist 
being  objectionable.  *' Oh,  no,"  said  the  doctor,  who  was  the 
moderator,  "  it  will  make  no  diiference,  but  I  think  tlici-e  will 
be  consideral)le  trouble  before  he  is  settled." 

He  was  one  of  the  signers  of  a  iiieiuorial  to  President  Ihi- 
chanan    in    reference   to   the   Kansas   tr(»iibles.     This  evoked  a 


LEOXAKI)    HATOX.  2'u 

re))l_v  at  the  l^-e^ideiit's  dwii  haii(l--tlie  secoiul  instance  of 
where  the  executive  condesceiKled  to  reply  to  a  memorial  of 
private  citizens.  The  iirst  was  Jefferson's  reply.  This  was 
also  to  a  memorial  from  citizens  of  New  Haven.  Both  these 
letters  are  carefully  treasured  here.  While  paying  much  atten- 
tion to  live  topics  and  church  history  and  writings  he  was  also 
a  lover  and  a  student  of  general  literature.  Among  his  earliest 
and  favorite  novels  were  those  of  Walter  Scott,  lie,  Presi- 
dent Woolsey  and  Professor  Twining,  were  members  of  a  lite- 
rary club  at  college  to  which  original  c(mtributions  were  made. 
These  contributions,  in  a  hand  writing  now  famous,  are  still 
zealously  guarded.  They  comprise  verse  as  well  as  prose  and 
show  that  Dr.  l>acon  possessed  the  rhyming  faculty,  as  well  as 
the  art  of  writing  didactic  prose. 


{FROM  THE  BOSTON  AD  VERTISEE.'] 


TWO  LEADERS  IN  TWO  ENGLANDS. 


Out  of  the  many  leaders  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic  who 
have  passed  away  during  the  last  six  months  tliere  are  two  who 
had  nnich  in  common, — Leonard  Bacon  and  Arthur  Stanley. 
In  many  things  they  were  wide  apart  and  manifestly  unlike. 
The  one  was  a  representative  Puritan ;  the  other  the  broadest 
of  cliurchmen.  The  one  had  the  gifts  of  an  ecclesiastical  leadei-, 
and  was  never  more  himself  than  when  antagonizing  an  un- 
righteous cause;  the  leadership  of  the  other  grew^  chieliy  out  of 
his  literary  studies  and  ecclesiastical  principles.  The  one  had 
been  bred  in  the  traditions  of  New  England  Pui-itanism,  and 
was  to  the  manner  born ;  the  other  had  grown  up  in  the  best 
of  English  homes,  and  had  been  under  the  direction  of  one  of 
the  most  stimulating  minds  in  England.  Each  had  lived  into 
what  was  most  characteristic  of  the  nationality  under  which  he 
grew  u]).  The  one  was  a  son  of  thunder,  and  like  Webster, 
never  knew  an  occasion  which  was  too  great  for  him.  The 
other  had  no  less  the  courage  of  his  convictions,  and  dared  to 
go  against  the  wdiole  bench  of  bishops  when  lie  had  a  cause  to 
maintain.  Each  had  developed  under  the  shadow  of  a  great 
literary  institution  and  ind>ibed  its  s])irit,  the  one  at  Yale  and 
the  other  at  Oxford  ;  and  each  had  that  mastery  of  vigorous 
English   1)V   wliich   he  could    iui])ress    his  glowing  conce])tioiis 


I-KOXAHD    UACON.  25!) 

ujxni  the  iiiinds  of  liis  t'cllow-iiu'ii.  'I'lii'ir  .s|)lic'ivs  of  lal)oi'  were 
decidedly  uidike.  Tlic  one  led  the  liosts  of  the  (N>iigiv(>-atioiial 
churches  in  New  Eiighiiid  as  -loslma  h'd  the  hosts  of  Isi-ael  to 
the  promised  hind;  tlie  other  siin[)ly  (h;\eh>i)ed  a  sehool  of 
tlioiight  in  the  most  inchisive  national  chnrch  of  nitxk'rn  times. 
The  American  had  the  more  native  vio-or,  and  could  rake  hohl 
of  thino-s  with  a  strouiici' irrasj) ;  the  otlier  had  tJie  lariiei"  vision, 
tile  wider  sym])athy.  These  were  essentially  their  points  of 
difference. 

In  other  res])ects  they  were  closely  allied.  They  had  the 
same  historical  instincts,  the  same  relish  for  ultimate  facts. 
They  had  the  same  conviction  that  religion  aiul  politics  are 
indissolubly  united  in  a  nation's  growth.  They  had  the  same 
idea  of  the  breadth  of  the  modern  pulpit.  Dr.  Bacon  in  the 
last  ten  years  of  his  life  grew  generous  and  sympathetic  even 
toward  those  against  whom  he  had  waged  l)attle  in  other  days, 
roaching  up  to  that  breadth  and  range  of  sympathy  which 
Minister  Lowell  spoke  of  the  other  day  in  England,  as  the  most 
pronounced  feature  in  the  life  of  the  late  Westminster  dean. 
The  two  men  had  no  patience  with  a  (Christianity  which  is  shut 
up  from  the  freest  contact  with  ^^I't^^^ent  life.  They  both  be- 
lieved in  the  largest  freedom  of  discussion,  and  in  the  use  of 
the  pi'ess  as  the  best  vehicle  for  formulating  opinion.  Wliat 
Dr.  Bacon  did  through  the  New  EiKjlaivler^  which  he  was 
mainly  instrumental  in  founding  in  1843,  and  late  on  through 
the  editorial  columns  of  The  Indejyendenty  Arthui"  Stanley  did 
from  1860  and  onward  to  the  end  of  his  life,  in  i\iQ  Edinhurgh 
Review  and  through  the  columns  of  the  London  Times.  Each 
in  his  appropriate  place  was  the  mouthpiece  of  the  thought 
w^hich  at  the  moment  most  needed  to  be  spoken.  Dr.  Bacon 
has  represented  the  Puritan  mind  of  l^ew  England  in  the 
general  religious  spirit  of  the  century,  as  Prof.  Park  has  shaped 
its  changing  dogmatic  convictions.  Both  men  had  the  wonder- 
ful capacity  of  growing  in  theii-  mental  force,  in  their  percep- 
tion of  the  needs  of  the  time,  in  a  quick  insight  into  lai-gei*  and 
fi-eei-  conditions  of  living,  and  carried  the  inspiring  sunshine  of 
their  ripening  beliefs  into  the  numerous  circles  in  which  they 
moved.  Both  men,  if  liberal  each  in  his  own  way,  had  that 
free  spii-it  of  liberty  which  lives  cm  the  strength  of  the  past  in 


L^tiO  LEONARD    BACON. 

the  larger  life  of  to-daj.  No  man  in  America  ever  brought 
({iiite  the  same  distinct  personality  into  tlie  pnlpit  which  Leon- 
ard Bacon  brought.  To  hear  him  speak  On  a  great  occasion 
was  like  listening  to  the  roar  of  the  Atlantic  when  driven  upon 
the  coast  by  a  northeaster;  he  swept  everything  before  hiin. 
Arthur  Stanley,  defending  Bishop  Colenso  against  the  censure 
of  the  (Canterbury  convocation,  or  standing  by  Mr.  Voysey, 
with  whom  he  never  agreed,  simply  because  he  believed  in  the 
great  pi-inciple  of  freedom  of  o])inion  where  men  honestly  dif- 
fered, is  a  figure  that  will  live  forever  in  English  religious 
history. 

These  men  differed  \'ery  widely ;  perhaps  they  never  met ; 
but  at  heart  they  had  the  same  spirit,  and  their  university  train- 
ing turned  their  minds  into  the  same  distinctive  channels.  Dr. 
Bacon  will  stand  forth  in  the  religious  history  of  this  century 
as  the  most  pronounced  ecclesiastical  leader  in  I^ew  England, 
bolder  than  Channing,  as  positive  as  Parker.  Dean  Stanley 
will  be  remembered  as  the  comprehensive  churchman  wdio  saw 
in  different  men  chiefly  those  things  in  which  they  were  agreed, 
and  who  taught  his  generation  to  draw  nearer  together  in  the 
spirit  of  C'hristian  unity.  The  life-work  of  the  two  men,  in  its 
general  direction,  was  the  same;  the  means  used  to  accomplish 
it,  with  points  of  great  unlikeness,  had  also  many  points  of 
agreement.  The  one  should  be  as  distinctly  remembered  as 
the  other.  The  Stanley  memorial  in  Westminster  Abbey  will 
be  the  expression  of  the  feelings  of  those  whose  hearts  Arthur 
Stanley  touched  on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic.  It  is  to  be 
hoped  that  Leonard  Bacon's  great  services  in  maintaining  a 
national  position  for  the  foremost  principles  of  Christianity,  a 
service  which  at  critical  periods  went  far  beyond  the  limitations 
of  sect,  may  be  recognized  in  some  emphatic,  historical  foi'ni  in 
the  university  of  which  he  was  a  part,  and  in  the  large  com- 
munity to  which  he  was  a  burning  and  a  shining  light  for  sixty 
years. 


938,3 
L554 


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BRnTLEDpNOt 
PHOTOCOPY. 


m  2  ?  1955 


